Someone From Nowhere
by Suikorin
Summary: SIV SIII A story of Hero4 after events in SIII. The Redrums needs a caretaker, and Hero4 decides to take up the job. However, Hero4's past dealings is catching up with him...
1. Under Leknaat's Care

Author's Note: I loved Suikoden 4, even though it has a sucky story in general. So I decided to imporve it a bit, give the Hero 4 some more personality than shown in the game. And I don't care what other people on forums say, I thought he was an adorable male in the game.

Hope people would like this.

Someone From Nowhere

Prologue - Under Leknaat's Care

_Years Earlier_

"I don't agree with you," said the young man. "I will leave here."

Leknaat sighed from her high seat in the meeting council. Her normally expressionless face showed lines of worry and even concern. She gripped the armchair tightly, trying to think of an appropriate response and came up with none. Her prophetic dreams did not have him in any future, a possibility that worried her to no end. "Can't you at least stay, until Luc is grown? He is strangely fond of you."

The young man shook his head. "He will betray your teachings. I would rather not be here and choose a side when he does."

Leknaat sighed. It was true that the future surrounding Luc was clouded with both hopes and destruction. However, that was also the reason she wanted this young man to stay here. Perhaps he can guide Luc in the right direction, prevent the uncertainty she saw.

"You are avoiding fate, don't you know that?" Leknaat asked in an imploring voice.

"No. I am merely changing my destiny, not my fate," he countered. "Even I know I can't avoid fate."

Leknaat was left speechless. Of all her pupils, this one had surprised her the most. He was like a blank slate, nearly without personality when he first came to her. Any orders, any assignments, he completed without complaint and with all the mediocrity of common low born. Yet, she suspected that he understood all her lessons the most. Behind those serious green eyes was a world that even Leknaat could not even attempt to see. He may even have more control over his Rune than Leknaat over her own Rune. The thought disturbed her.

"I will not stop you," said Leknaat finally. "But at least tell Luc. I can see how he looks up to you, how he looks for you each morning. That child is very..." She stopped, trying to think of the right word to describe her most recent pupil.

"Human," the young man answered for her. "Our greatest quality, but also the greatest flaw. Something you can barely remember because of your immortality and True Rune."

"As you are," reminded Leknaat.

"Until our next meeting," he said, effectively ending their conversation. He then bowed low, a rare gesture of respect, even from him. "By your leave, Madam?"

Leknaat paused, not wanting him to leave. With him, the next meeting could be in a few days, a few decades, even an century. Still, he nodded in the end, effectively giving her consent.

The young man stood straight and looked upon the eternal serene Leknaat. He suddenly felt that he would miss this place. Leknaat, for all her inhuman sights into the future, was very much like a mother to all around her, to people like himself. _It's for me and everyone else_. He will do all that was necessary to safe guard his Rune and Magician's Island was becoming too much of a True Rune Stash for him.

"Thank you, for your kindness over the years," he said suddenly to the half opened door. "I am deeply grateful."

At that Leknaat smiled. Considering his age, he was still very human. "Be careful. Don't be up to TOO much mischief."

He chuckled at that. The peace of the island was often disturbed by his various pranks. He had changed, since his younger days, physically and mentally. He wondered how much else would change in the next few years.

"I will."

Teaser teaser! I will write more if I get just one (Yes! You read it correctly. ONE) review!

Suikorin


	2. Man Without Potch

AN: I'm trying something new. I actually have every chapter planned in an attempt to actually finish a fic. Wish me luck.

Disclaimer: Not mine, and I won't bother with disclaimers in the future because it's obvious suikoden ain't mine.

oOOo

Chapter 1: Man Without Potch

The long bronze-haired, green-eyed, young man was in a pickle.

He had just arrived at Vinay del Zexay, expecting to catch a ship sailing to the far south. He was prepared too, certain that he had just enough potch to pay or bribe a captain to take him that far. However, he bumped into a homeless man, standing in the streets with his sick daughter. Seeing how the Zexens were not so kind to the poorer people of their city, he decided to be stupidly charitable.

Now he sat in the Guzzling Dove Tavern, drinking juice instead of ale like the other patrons. He leaned against the table, propping his head with his black-silk gloved left hand. It was morning, and not too many people were around. The bartender was quietly cleaning a glass with an unsanitary-looking towel while some chronic alcoholics were already clamoring for another drink. Some stared at him strangely, as his long breeches, heavy boots, long sleeved shirt and coat of Harmonian dress were too warm for Zexen mid-summer.

The young man ignored all strange looks, deep in thought. He had been here a few days, seeing sights and thinking about easy ways to make some potch. He did not have much with him, only a knapsack of his personal effects and a carefully wrapped antique. His money purse had only ten potch, not enough for a night's stay at an inn, much less getting him as far south as he wanted. He did not want to turn pickpocket again nor did he want to be out hunting for poor animals that incidentally had some potch with them. Commandeering a decent sailing vessel of some sort was the last thing he want to do.

_I could work..._ he thought, then scowled, _but I hate working, especially at a tavern._ A server boy job was easy to get, but the owner usually treated him like a dog. There were plenty of times when he thought of murder in some darkened alleyway when no one was looking. Just because he was supposed to be some illiterate, stupid, ungrateful, screwed up scum of society doesn't mean that he wanted to be treated like one. Besides, he gave up that image a while ago. He preferred the highly sophisticated look of a Harmonian. While he understood that the Harmonians were generally hated outside their border, they were respected. Getting certain...services were easier if one was Harmonian.

Then, his eyes strayed upon a poster.

"Wanted. Caretaker for the auspicious Redrum family of Vinay del Zexay.

Preference will be given to potential caretakers who can also service as a tutor.

A caretaker will be provided with standard lodging, three meals a day, and 1000 potch per month."

_That'll be interesting, _considered the young man. _A tutor...I used to train squires...and I haven't been a servant to a household since I was younger._

He smiled to himself. He was not in a hurry to head south, and he was fairly curious about the Zexens. Not to mention it was 1000 potch a month with meals and a roof over his head. With some time, he'd definitely have enough to sail south and maybe enough leftover to purchase some souvenirs for the Obel royal family. Yes it was the perfect plan.

And if one of those Rune hound dogs came after him again, he'll just send them on another wild goose chase.

oOOo

Borus yawned and drummed his fingers against the sturdy mahogany desk. It was the middle of the day. The lights shone from a large window behind him onto a solitary brunette, presenting her less than satisfactory credentials. He had already lost count of how many had come, and this one was just a bad as the last one.

"As I was saying, I have completed elementary education an' taught the Hilenberg's three sons how to read good," said the girl while batting flirty eyes at Borus.

Borus smiled, sending the lady's heart palpitating with excitement. "And why should I hire you?" he asked. "There were plenty of others who can teach reading."

The lady frowned. What more was there? All she needed to do was boss someone around, no? "Well, I can tell you about some dealings of the Hildenberg..."

The lady was about to say more when Virgil, the Redrum family's most trust and oldest servant cut her short.

"We'll consider you," said Virgil, with a hackling cough. "Thank you for coming."

"But I haven't..."

"Go," said Virgil sternly.

The lady pouted prettily at Borus and gave him a wink. She backed out of the room with a bow, hand patted her stuffed chest in faint sexy lure. She was even gracious enough to close the doors when she left.

Virgil took a very deep breath as the lady left. Not even halfway through their interview, he noticed an irritated look on Master Redrum's face. Fearing some outburst from his master, Virgil cut the interview as short as possible.

Borus was dumbstruck after the lady left, as if he was incapable of comprehending what the lady had said. He sat there for one minute in complete stillness. Then, he stood up, picked his expensive dirk letter opener and threw it at the door.

The small knife imbedded itself in the hard wooden door with a light thud.

"Read **good** indeed!" exploded Borus. "No wonder the Hildenbergs are complete morons!"

"Now now Master Redrum," placated Virgil. "She did have many qualities. She has worked with many children and tutored many well known families." Virgil looked at her professionally written résumé. "She taught all the Pattersons!"

Borus looked at Virgil incredulously. "The Pattersons can't read."

"Well, the current head does work with legalized documents of Zexens...the difficulty would be..."

"He can't read a dinner menu," reminded Borus. "I need a caretaker, not a nymphomaniac."

Virgil just looked down. That was precisely the problem. Almost all of Vinay del Zexay thought that Borus was still unattached. Young ladies loved the five of the Mighty Six Knights of Zexen, especially Borus and Percival. Both were heroes of the Second Bringer war, both were handsome in their own charming way. Some ladies would even drool just at the mere thought of them. However, Percival had married right after the war and now lived mostly in Iksay with his wife and children. Borus...well, his case was bit more complicated.

"If it need to be, I can call my nephew back from Iksay..." started Virgil.

"No! He made it clear that he doesn't want to stay in Zexay. Besides, he's got that gossipy wife of his and six kids."

"Well...the rest of them are young ladies, maybe there's a chance one is a scholar," encouraged Virgil.

"Just send in the next one," said Borus in a final tone. It did not take a genius to figure out that most wanted to work for him because they had hopes that Borus would magically develop a romantic interest in them and bringing them into the luxurious life of a wealthy Redrum.

"Very well sir."

Borus slumped back into his chair. Finding a new caretaker to bark orders to the other servants was easy. Finding one that was not easily bought by prying councilors and gossip gazettes was next to impossible. The interviews this morning were an example of that. Past servants to prominent Zexen Counselors were more than willing to betray dark secrets of their past masters to become servants to Borus. Any intelligent Lord knew better than to hire a turncoat like that.

Virgil understood Master Redrum's predicament too. He himself had tried to look for a replacement without avail. Virgil's heart cringed at the very thought of leaving Master Redrum without a trusted servant. It was his idea to send out such a poster, and now, he would do anything to find an appropriate successor. Virgil went outside the study to call for the next person.

Borus grumbled as he calmed himself. He sat back down on the comfortable leather seat, mumbling, "If the next one tries to make a pass at me, I'll kill her."

_Rakasvi,_ the young man thought to himself. _That sounds like a good Harmonian name. Certainly better than Nell. I'll put that down. From now on, I am Rakasvi_.

The same literally poor young man was roaming through the Redrum mansion. He had cleaned himself up for this. His waist length bronze hair was neatly braided. The long bangs that always fall into his eyes were trimmed. He even took a bath and donned on a fresh set of blue Harmonian garb.

_This place looks pretty normal._

The mansion was about the same as every other mansion he had visited in his lifetime. Expensive nature oil paintings hung on every wall. Foreign urns and pottery, probably collected over the generations by the Redrum family, were placed on every mantle. The collection of antique weaponry impressed Rakasvi. Simple swirls and images of the sea, carved into the hilt of many of the blades, were reminiscent of designs on many objects from his childhood. Come to think of it, when he last pawned a dagger from his home island, he had enough money to travel for two entire months. The Redrums had many other priceless and invaluable ornaments. Certainly they would not care if a small speck of shiny metal went missing...

_Stop...thinking...about...stealing!_ Rakasvi berated himself. _I'm not THAT desperate for money._

Displeased with his inconsiderate thought, Rakasvi turned for a look at the hall where the other aspiring caretakers were waiting. Discouraged and annoyed at the still long line made up exclusively of females, Rakasvi decided to explore some more, this time, the garden.

Immediately, the sweet aroma and brilliant colors of summer blooms indulged his senses. Flowers, as small as a raindrop to as large as a bell, neatly grew by the stone paths. Blossoming trees, two stories tall, canopied and lightly shaded the paths. A fountain bubbled clear water in the middle of the garden. Strangely charmed by the sight, Rakasvi found himself wandering the paths.

Suddenly, a small blur sped past him. Rakasvi looked in the direction of the blur's escape, only to have his foot caught on a yellow yarn and he tripped.

"What time?" Rakasvi's moved his arms forward just in time to prop himself with the palms of his hand. Then, with a quick push of his arm, he propelled himself back to a standing position.

"Take this, you grassy barbarian!" yelled a sharp voice from behind.

Instinctively, Rakasvi turned to face the attack. A wooden toy sword thrust directly at his stomach. Rakasvi's quick reflexes parried the attack away with two fingers. His other hand reacted to catch the sword and gave it a forceful pull.

"Hey!" cried a little girl as she was pulled and consequently fell into his arms.

Rakasvi blinked. His attacker was a three feet tall little midget in a homemade straw armor and she was glaring at him with the angriest violet eyes she could muster. She immediately stepped away from him, not even bothering to retrieve her toy sword that was on the ground.

"What are you looking at? You never seen a Zexen knight maiden before?" she yelled, spluttering spit onto his shirt.

Rakasvi wondered if he should be laughing or raging. This little girl was very serious about play-acting the "Zexen Knight Maiden," though she looked nothing like it. Her upper armor was made of old moldy straw. Her knees were terribly scabbed and her hair was disheveled like a freshly piled haystack. There was mud on her face and her nails were caked with dirt. She was the complete opposite of what one would consider a knight in shining armor. Yet, she was also the one who tripped him, something he wasn't happy about.

"Well," began Rakasvi calmly. "If you want to be a Zexen Knight Maiden..." he picked up her toy sword by the hilt. With a flick of his wrist, he swung the sword up in the air and caught it by the blade. He respectfully offered it to the child. "...you should keep track of your sword."

The little girl looked at her toy sword suspiciously as if it was a live snake. She stared at it for a good half a minute before snatching it back ungratefully.

Seeing that the child was satisfied that her toy was not cursed in any way, Rakasvi decided it was probably best that he return to the waiting room with all the others.

"Who are you?" the little girl asked. "The others just scream and Virgil usually yells at me and spanks me when I play..."

"Rakasvi," the young man introduced himself with a bow. "And you are?"

"I'm Morgan the Golden Knight Maiden," said the little girl with brimming pride.

"Well, Lady Morgan." Rakasvi reached for her right hand and before Morgan could react, he kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Morgan was speechless. No one had ever treated her that way. Everyone just told her to study, dress pretty, and be silent when adults were around. Virgil always looked at her attempts to play as frivolous and always told her to study hard to be a lady. Morgan always thought /studying/ wasn't the word to use for looking pretty. She longed to be a knight just like her father, if only her father would allow her to join the squires in training...

Rakasvi released her hand, noticing the reddening of her cheeks. "I best be returning now," he said, turning toward the mansion.

Morgan just stood there, watching him go.

oOOo

"Next," came Virgil's polite call from within the study.

Rakasvi watched another frilly dressed female come out of the study. Seeing the number of fancy dresses, Rakasvi was beginning to wonder if he went to some ball by accident.

After the little incident in the garden, Rakasvi had settled for the boring wait in the hall. There were others in the hall, mostly females. They seemed to talking nervously and excitedly about this "Borus" person. Being a newcomer to Vinay del Zexay, Rakasvi found all the usually despised gossip refreshing. Apparently, this Borus person was one of the heroes of the Tinto Border Clash and the Second Fire Bringer War.

_Second Fire Bringer War..._ thought Rakasvi with guilt. During that time, he had been in the Nameless Lands, determined to stay out of that war at all cost. He could have prevented it, but the chances that he could have worsened the situation were just as plausible. He shook his head. Thinking about the past gave him reasons to regret, a feeling that he avoided when he could.

Another lady came out, looking miffed and angry. Rakasvi stood up, ready to go in.

"Excuse me, but I was here first," said a snotty looking lady with dark freckles to Rakasvi. She did not wear a frilly looking dress. Instead, she wore something close to the black uniform of a warden. Her iron gray hair was tied back so tightly, pulling at her scalp. He knobby old fingers had sharp blood red nails that looked like talons of a recently fed beast. Hot pink rouge on spread on her cheeks looked like some scary killer happy doll. A large mole, the size of a moutainman's toe grew on her neck. And her yellow teeth seemed to have been sharpened deliberately to add on the effect of being the monster under the bed.

She looked so mean, even Rakasvi felt a little threatened.

"Um..Go ahead," offered Rakasvi, resisting the urge to shrink away. _Man, what a scary looking woman. _He looked at the rest of the people in the hall. They were trying hard not to look at the woman.

"Humph!" She stuck her nose high up in the air as she passed by him, trying to look down on Rakasvi but only coming up to his chest. Rakasvi's whole attention was on her gigantic mole; he could imagine the black sore barking insults to him. She went around the corner to the study that was futher down the hall. Everyone heard the door she slammed.

"Who was that?" muttered Rakasvi to himself.

"That's Victoria," commented someone from the crowd. "She's the old lady of crotchety fat Zexen Councilor Marcus."

"Hush! Do you want her to hear you?" said someone urgently. "She can make you disappear if you make her unhappy."

"I'm just saying, that's all."

The common people chattered some more, mostly about Victoria and her vileness in acquiring assets of the Marcus's enemies. Rakasvi regarded all of the talk with simple curiosity and nothing more. He had no money for this Victoria person to get anyways.

As it turned out, that snotty looking lady was inside for a minute before she came out, looking pleased (which was even more scary looking).

_I guess it's my turn_ Rakasvi thought. Then, some old man with a huge pudge and no hair came about shouting. "We have found our caretaker. The rest of you may leave, thank you all for coming."

A common "awww" rang throughout.

Victoria came out to the hall. "Scram! All of you!" she ordered triumphantly in her glass shattering vulture voice. Then she started laughing like some insane harpy, obviously pleased that she got the job.

People winced at the sound of her voice. Forgetting their desire to be Borus's lady, many of them even started to run for the door.

Rakasvi grimaced. Victoria must have had the most aweful voice he had ever heard and he had heard a lot of voices in his lifetime. "Geez, woman!" he shouted over her laughing. He shut his eyes in pain. "Quit your screeching. You're hurting my head."

His words had an immediate effect on Victoria. Her blood shot yellow eyes became wide and it looked like they were about to pop out their sockets. "That's LADY Victoria to you."

"No. You are more a hag than a lady," he said mildly, looking at her up and down.

"What? What did you call me?" she shouted, causing everyone in the hall to stop his or her movements. They all turned to watch the scene developing before them. They would have stayed longer if Virgil hadn't shooed them away.

"I called you a HAG? Can't you hear? A HAG?" shouted Rakasvi back, keeping a good distance from her.

"How DARE you call me that, you..you...you...common, garbage gnawing Harmonian knave!"

Unknowing to her, Borus had come out of the study and was staring at the scene from behind her. The blonde-haired knight crossed his arm, studying their interaction. He never knew anyone insane enough to call Victoria names.

"See, that's why you are not a Lady," countered Rakasvi. "A Lady doesn't curse!"

Victoria looked livid. She glared at this young twenty-years old looking man, thinking of a way to best him.

"You must be a third-class Harmonian!" she said with a sudden chilliness, looking at the young man. He had the nicer dress of a Harmonian, but his skin was too dark to be first or second-class citizen. Victoria automatically assumed that he must be one of the conquered nations of Harmonia. "I'll have your carcass dragged from here all the way back to slaving hell pits of Crystal Valley!"

Rakasvi rolled his eyes. "At least the pits will be prettier than your face!"

"Barbarous scoundrel!" Victoria's temper flared. No one had ever dared call her ugly.

"Calumnious old bag!"

"Wretched miscreant!"

"Foul lout!"

"What are you blabbering about?" came a soft but familiar voice from behind Rakasvi. He turned.

"Morgan?" queried Rakasvi. The same little girl who tried to stab Rakasvi was there in all her scabbed knees and dirtied glory. She tugged on Rakasvi's coat, trying to gain his attention.

"What is a scoundrel?" she asked innocently.

Virgil gasped, he tried to run to the girl, but Borus held his servant off with an arm.

Victoria seized the moment of Rakasvi's distraction to add more words. "I see you brought a wench with you..." her yellow eyes narrowed speculatively on the child. "Terribly filthy! Just look at her hair..."

Rakasvi quickly covered Morgan's ears with his hands. He silently berated himself and hoped that the child had not heard most of the words. Good thing the little girl spoke up before he dove into his extensive colorful langauge. It was against his nature to speak such words in front of a child.

Virgil's eyes became wider and wider with the woman's each sentence. The things of which Victoria was accusing the child and the complete stranger were ridiculous. And to think this woman was mother to five girls, each of the girls married off to good families.

"...And isn't she a little young for you? You Harmonian scum sure like to deflower the innocent!" finished Victoria, taking a breather.

There was complete silence for a good ten seconds. The tension in the air was so stiff that one could slice it with a hot butter knife. Virgil was left speechless, never hearing such words coming from a highborn woman.

Rakasvi calmly took his palms off Morgan's ears. He kneeled down so he was about her height and said, "Lady Knight Morgan, will you please turn around?"

"Of course, Ra," chirped Morgan. She turned around and even stuck her fingers into her ears so she wouldn't hear anything.

"That's a good girl."

Then Rakasvi stood up, walked over to Victoria, and slapped her on the cheek with his left hand.

Victoria's head whipped to the side like a rusty gate. She touched her cheek, shocked that anyone dared to lay a hand on her. Angry tears started to form as her mouth parted, ready for another blistering mud-fling at Rakasvi's forefathers.

"That's enough Lady Victoria!" boomed Borus from his hiding spot, effectively ceasing a word from Victoria. "I think I heard enough. You are to leave my property, now."

As if caught by her husband while with an adulterer, Victoria turned and gasped. She never knew the all mighty Swordsman of Rage heard her entire conversation.

"It's best that you leave now, Lady," suggested Virgil.

Never having so infuriated in her entire life, Victoria spat at Rakasvi's boot, only to miss the target by a few feet.

"You are dismissed!" said Borus, firmly.

With an angry glare, Victoria turned and stumped all the way to the door, swearing that she would "make that Harmonian bastard pay for this insult!"

"That lady...is not nice," commented Morgan after the little earthquake of the front door slamming had passed.

Rakasvi was shaking his head, wondering why in the world did he went into shouting match against a complete stranger. He was usually much more patient with people. "I've honestly have never met such a crude woman..." was his justification to himself. He looked to Morgan. "And what are you doing here?"

Morgan smirked. "I live here," she pointed to the old bald man with a pudge. "That's Virgil."

Rakasvi nodded politely and extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rakasvi."

Virgil reached out and shook the young man's hand.

Then Morgan pointed to Borus. With obvious pride, love, and respect, she said, "That's Sir Borus Redrum. My Papa."

oOOo

Phew, that took a bit to write. I actually wrote this before the prologue...Come to think of it, I never had the prologue 'betaed.' I'll get around that in a bit. I probably didn't write enough descriptions, I'll work on that.

The young man is suppose to be Hero 4. Yes, I changed his appearance and personality. Really OOC, I am sorry, I can't help it. But a person is suppose to change after 200 years, don't you agree?

Suikorin.


	3. Simple Introductions

AN: As with all stories, there would be the chapter where nothing noteworthy happens, the set-up chapter, if you well. I feel that it's OOC for Hero4 (then again, his persoanlity was completely flat in the game and that drove me aboslutely crazy. I HAD to do SOMETHING.)

Anyways, comments are welcome since all authors feeds on them. Flames..well...I'll probably cry in a corner when I read them...or not care.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooo

Someone From Nowhere 2 - Simple introductions

Virgil was a little suspicious. After Morgan declared her father as the all mighty Sir Borus, Rakasvi just stood there as if Morgan had declared that the sky was blue. Rakasvi did reach forward and shook Master Redrum's hand with the same exact politeness he showed Virgil.

"You aren't impressed?" asked Virgil.

"That he's one of the heroes of the War and one of the mighty six Zexen knights. I suppose so," answered Rakasvi honestly. Seeing the confused stares he clarified further. "I'm new in this town. Oh yeah..." Rakasvi pulled out a neatly folded wanted poster. "I'm here about the job," he said with a dazzling winning smile.

Borus looked at Rakasvi up and down. The young man's dress was clearly Harmonian, but Borus had seen enough Harmonians to notice subtle differences. Rakasvi had long hair and a healthy tan as opposed to short hair and nearly white skin that a regimented Harmonian would keep. Rakasvi also seemed to be completely comfortable in his thick coat while Borus felt like sweating just looking at him. Rakasvi was strangely tall and slightly gangly, as if he never quite finished growing. His round face still had some baby fat, giving him an unusually childish look. Yet his sea green eyes were...old, full of carefree mischief, but more ancient than the oldest man in town.

Morgan tugged on Borus's shirt. "He's really neat! He didn't even trip in the Garden."

"Morgan!" said Borus sternly. "How any times have I told you not to do that anymore?"

"But you're going to replaced Virgil," said the girl, defending herself. "I don't want..."

"No more!" said Borus in a final tone. "I want you back in your room. We'll speak of this later."

The little girl shrank away from her father. When Papa talked, he was always very serious and looked like he was about to give her the spanking of a lifetime.

"Go clean yourself up. You look filthy," said Virgil with his horse voice.

Frowning and glaring, Morgan ran away and disappeared up the stairs. Rakasvi noted dully that the girl had some tears in her eyes.

"Come into my study," commanded Borus.

"Really? Am I being considered?" asked Rakasvi with hope in his voice. He had thought that his direct insolence toward a woman had extinguished all hopes of even getting a job.

Borus could practically see his reflection in Rakasvi's white teeth. "Yes."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo

The study was a spacious square room. An ancient, semi-tattered map of the north hung on one wall. A painting of an old solemn man with a beard hung on another wall. A portrait of an unknown white-haired lady hung on the wall across from the old man. A large window, right behind a large mahogany desk, shone upon Rakasvi like a spotlight for a stage.

Strangely, Rakasvi felt completely calm, even though Lord Redrum had one of those looks that suggested that the world would end if he ever cracked a smile. Rakasvi took a seat as soon as his host motioned him to do so. Virgil was standing to the right side of the desk, looking as serious as his master.

Borus sat straight up formally, his knightly habits showing in his proper posture, even in a casual setting. "Tell me about yourself," asked Borus.

Rakasvi smiled, thinking _this guy isn't a fool. He is expecting a good answer_. Fortunately, Rakasvi already had a good story prepared. "Well, I lived in Harmonia a few years back. During that time, I worked for a first-class citizen as a servant and a playmate to his sons. He gave me decent education and I was very grateful. But I always wanted to travel, see the world, and probably go back to my homeland at some point. So my master released me and gave me a hefty sum of potch, told me to do whatever I want and stay out of trouble. So I wandered around Nameless lands, better known to you as the Outlands to the north, for a while. I'm ready to settle down for a bit though." Rakasvi paused to take a breath. He looked to both older-looking men, hoping to see approval. The answer was completely honest, with as much detail as Rakasvi wanted.

"Servant for Harmonian first-class citizen," murmured Virgil with a cough. The old man remembered many rumors of the terrible conditions for a servant in Harmonia. Servants were all third-class citizens, a populace that were most heavily taxed and oppressed. Virgil even remembered that servants could be killed at the whims of their masters if wished. It seemed that this Rakasvi person had met with a gentle master.

That was not on Borus's mind. He was fairly puzzled with the young man's story. He noted with interest that Rakasvi never spoke of a specific number nor gave more descriptions to the lands he had been to. "You said, 'go back to my homeland at some point.' What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Oh, I'm a war orphan," said Rakasvi as if it was an everyday thing. "I was passed around before ending up in Harmonia."

That was unexpected. "I'm sorry," apologized Borus, remembering the number of fathers and brothers he had killed during the wars the Zexen Council had sent them on.

Rakasvi shrugged. "I can't miss people I don't even know. Speaking of people I don't even know...I had the distinct impression that Victoria was your woman for the job. May I ask why?"

"No..." began Virgil.

"Yes you may," Borus cut in, exchanging glances with Virgil. "She had five daughters. Each of them esteemed in the eyes of the general population. Each of them married off to good families."

"And you want the same for Morgan," guessed Rakasvi.

Borus sat back into his chair. "Not if she turns out like her."

"Fair enough."

"Why do you want this job?" This time, it was Virgil who asked the question. He sneezed again.

"Well, to be truthful," Rakasvi took a deep breath. They probably would not like his reason. "I'm out of potch. I spent my last bit of money on juice. "

"Brutally honest," commented Borus. "I like that."

Rakasvi obviously brightened from the compliment. "Now it's my turn to ask questions. What will be my tasks if I am hired?"

"Well, your standard tasks will be serving Master Redrum with all his daily needs. Make certain none of the servants steal..."

"Morgan," said Borus. "Your number one task will be to care for and tutor Morgan. Can you do it?"

Rakasvi smiled confidently. "I have a standard Harmonian education right at Crystal Valley. My previous master's sons required a lot of special attention. Of course I can."

Borus nodded. Ernie, the curly haired scholar at Budehuc had always spoken of Harmonian academic reputation. Scholars all over the world drooled over the opportunity to study in Harmonia. Satisfied with that answer, Borus asked the next question in mind. "How long will you be able to serve me?"

It was perhaps the only time Rakasvi had looked away, something that Borus, as a sword master, could pick up as a point for unwillingness. "Well, for a lifetime, if you want."

"Ah." Virgil was pleased at the answer. A servant is no good if he or she did not stay for a long time.

"What about your homeland?" asked Borus. "Don't you want to see it?"

"It's an interest, I'll admit. But it has done little for me and I owe nothing to it."

"Alright. One condition. I am willing to let you work here, if you will tell me the name of your previous Harmonian master," said Borus.

Rakasvi's eyes widened and shook his head. The truth was a man that would completely blow away his desire for anonymity. He would rather go back outside and kill little furry animals than to give a name. "That, sir, is something I've sworn not to reveal."

"Not even for...let's say...500,000 potch?"

"Well..." Rakasvi paused, looking as if he was seriously considering it. It would easily take him south, heck, it would buy him a ship. But then, he shook his head sadly. "No. I can't."

Borus nodded. The question was a test, and this young man had passed it. "Gather whatever you brought with you. Virgil will show you around."

The brilliant look on Rakasvi's face could have shamed the sun. "I got the job?"

"For a week. We'll discuss further plans after we see your performance."

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By the time Rakasvi gathered all his personal belongings at the inn, it was dusk. He made his way to the Redrum residence, which was a little way away from the main town. Virgil allowed the young man in and started to show him the way around the place. During the walkthrough, Virgil told Rakasvi, between wheezing coughs, about the Redrums.

The Redrums were very much upper aristocrats of Zexen, with many estates and ties to the Guilds. Borus was the current head of the Redrum family, owing to the fortuitous demise of his elder siblings due to either accident or disease. He had many cousins who were in high places, many of whom he did not even know the name of. Down south somewhere, he had a mother, her mind ravaged by the forgetful disease. His daughter Morgan was his sole heir. That was the main extent of his family.

Otherwise, Borus had very little blood relations still around. As for his occupation, Borus was one of the instructors in the ways of the sword for all the squires in the process of becoming a knight. At a command of the council, he would often ride to Brass Castle where the main garrison stayed.

It did not take much for Rakasvi to understand that Borus was an important person to the Zexen Federation. The man's duties had required him to keep a small estate in Vinay, along with the many other estates under the Redrum name. Virgil spoke of his master with veneration that one would give to a king, a trait that greatly impressed itself on Rakasvi.

"This is where you will be lodging," said Virgil, after telling Rakasvi a lengthy and boring description of the Redrum's chief manor a day's ride south. They had completed touring the mansion and Rakasvi had requested permission to retire.

They were at the end corner of the house, in front of a hallow dark wood door. Virgil kocked once then twisted the egg-shaped brass knob, and pushed.

The door creaked open and Rakasvi stepped in, carrying his knapsack and a bundle. He surveyed the dim room. There was a simple straw bed in a corner and another straw bunk bed in the other corner; both beds had a thin layer of cotton underlay over the yellowed sheets and blankets. Two dressers, made up of unpolished wooden boards haphazardly nailed together, were placed in the other corners. A body length mirror hung on the wall next to the door.

Rakasvi sniffed. It was a little dank, but he could see the sea lit red by the setting sun from the window.

"You'll be sleeping on that bed." Virgil pointed to the upper bunk bed. He then walked over to the closest dresser to the bed. "This will be your dresser."

"Okay." The young man promptly walked over the dresser and dropped his items. He then scuttled over to the bunk beds. Without using the provided ladder, he swung up to the bed so fast, Virgil thought he was seeing things.

Rakasvi pressed down on the mattress, feeling its bounce and hardness. It was a little harder than the beds at the inn, but he preferred it that way. "Not too soft," he said with heartfelt approval.

"I see I have roommates," said Rakasvi, eyeing the scant personal items on the other beds and dresser. There was a hairbrush, a hand mirror, and some bottles of scents. A green and blue colored quilt covered the single bed.

"You'll see them later."

"Who says he'll see us later?" said a jolly voice.

Two people, a jovial looking middle-aged man, a young woman, and a serious looking young man peeked in the door. In no time, they came inside.

"Is this the new lad?" asked the middle-age man, showing an uneven teethy smile. He was lanky and quite tanned, his skin leathered red and brown by the sun. His eyelids were narrow with merryness, making it nearly impossible to see his eyes.

"Yes," said Rakasvi. "I am the new lad." He slipped off his bed and landed silently like a cat. Holding out his right hand, he said, "I'm Rakasvi. What's your name?"

"Derek," he said. He reached out with his soiled right hand. "I'm the gardener."

"Nice to meet you."

"And you?" asked Rakasvi, looking at the young woman. She looked to be fifteen or so, still growing, still all arms and legs. She seemed to hold some promise of great beauty, given a few more years.

"Lotty," she said in a quiet whisper. She didn't come forward, but shrank behind Derek. She stared at Rakasvi with luminous gray eyes, strangely, with fear.

"Sorry," apologized Derek. "She's my daughter. She's a little shy. She helps out with the cleaning and cooking."

"I see..." There were some similarities. Lotty had the same dark brown hair as her father, but hers shone and was braided into two pigtails with evidence of great care.

"And you are?" Rakasvi turned to the third person.

"I'm not a servant," he uttered almost arrogantly. "I'm just here to check you out, making sure you're fit for Sir Borus."

"Yes, I can see that," said Rakasvi. He could tell this one was not a servant by the heavy armor he wore. "But what's your name?"

"Melville. I'm Sir Borus's right hand man," he answered. He was about Rakasvi's height, with a solemn face much like Lord Redrum. The eyebrows, perfectly shaped reminded Rakasvi of the aristocratic ladies. He circled around Rakasvi like a hawk sighting out a pray. "I saw your little encounter with Lady Morgan. I'll be watching you." With that short warning, he walked out of the room.

"He is...devoted," was all Rakasvi said, though he understood why this Melville person wanted to watch him. In his moments of solitude, Rakasvi would lapse into his old habits. _Well...I don't think I'll be making that mistake again._

"Don't mind him," empathized Derek. "Melville had always been a little harsh with strangers. He is..."

"...completely loyal to Lord Redrum," finished Rakasvi. "I understand the feeling."

"Ahem," coughed Virgil. The three others in the room turned to him. He spoke specifically to Rakasvi, "I'll be be here first thing in the morning, to introduce you to my rounds. Be up at first light, or else. There are some regular Zexen clothes in the drawers. Master Redrum requests that you wear them."

"Oh." Rakasvi's expression looked a bit gloomy at the suggestion.

"Good night." with that, Virgil left the room.

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_Not a lot of privacy, but endurable,_ thought Rakasvi of his little room with the father and daughter.

It was the middle of the night. He lay on the bed, feeling a little chilly. The adequate blanket covered his entire body, just right below his nose. His mess of bronze hair lay neatly to the side and bundled together. He could hear Derek snoring lightly in his corner bed, turning ever so often and grunting whenever some sweet dream graced his sleep. Lotty was sleeping soundlessly beneath him, occasionally calling out for a person named "Thomas."

Rakasvi found this all very reminiscent of his younger days, when he was still under the former Lord Vingerhut's house. He was suppose to be sleeping in the servants corridors, listening to the obnoxiously thunder like snores of the older people. During those days, he learned to make do with little sleep, spending most of his nights peeling potatoes or some other equally meticulous and repetitive work. _You're an unwanted child, sent adrift at sea. You should be thankful to Lord Vingerhut for taking you in,_ the butler of the Vingerhuts would say at least once a week. _Maya took to you just because she pitied you._

Back then, he was terribly hurt by those words. He could see others around him, about his age, with mothers to run to, fathers to defend them. He had no one. Even Maya, the elderly woman who cared for his daily needs, had favored children of her own.

Then Snowe came along, and ruined his sadness. Snowe, four years older, took to him like an older brother. He declared Rakasvi an unofficial Vingerhut and demanded Rakasvi as a playmate. They were happy then, always getting into trouble with the cooks and skipping out on lessons when they could. When Snowe was ten-years old, they had sworn to be friends forever. Rakasvi adored Snowe back then, truly seeing him as a brother. They even became as ridiculous as to write their oath in blood and buried the paper in the Knight's Courtyard under a tree. Sure, there was that period when their different societal status had cause them to drift apart, but he stayed true to their oath to the day Snowe passed on.

"Thomas," Lotty whispered again. She rolled over, snuggling closer to her blankets with a smile on her face.

_Must be some special guy to her,_ thought Rakasvi. Unconsciously, he thought of the Rune on his left hand. That one brush of thought caused a sudden flickering in his vision. His darkened room had disappeared. Sounds of breathing were replaced by a distance singing of unknown origin. A faded image of a young man in his mid-twenties appeared in Rakasvi's mind. That young man looked like he came from the Outlands, wearing practical and earthy-colored breeches, shirt and jacket. Behind the image was the vast expanse of a starstudded sky. One particular star, more brilliant than any other, shone brilliantly.

_Stop,_ commanded Rakasvi briskly in his mind.

Immediately, the images vanished, replaced again by the dark ceiling and Derek's snoring. The singing faded, replaced by crickets and the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Rakasvi was still for several moments. He removed all thoughts from his mind, even the determined inner voice he used earlier was completely blocked out. When he became sure of no sudden intrusion of images, he relaxed. _A spontaneous Waking Dream...how long since I had one?_ asked Rakasvi to himself. _I usually can control them when I see them._

That sudden vision greatly puzzled him. This Thomas person must had been one of the Stars of Destiny. Why else would his Rune react so acutely to the mere mention of a name?

Concentrating again, Rakasvi slowly eased himself into another vision. This time, he made a particular effort to observe the details of the stars, and burned the image of Thomas into his mind.

_That's the Tenkai, Heavenly Lord, Thomas..._ identified Rakasvi. He had never seen Thomas in person, of course, he only guessed that the person was named Thomas._ Why am I seeing him? I'm sure there isn't a gathering for at least another decade.. Could that witch affect the visions...Oh damn...maybe that she wants me back to run her errands now that Luc is gone._

Rakasvi made a face. His Former Lady Master kept him pretty busy for the times he was under her service. He could be in Falena one day then run off across deep oceans, vast plains and mountain ranges, to the Outlands within days. Her orders varied from "help this kid defeat a rabid rabbit," to "dispose that country's legions." Sometimes, he had to mingle with people he hated and make friends with people he'd rather see dead. Then, when his task was completed and he had just settled down for some quality reading time, she would send him off again.

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"Slave driver," he would often say to her, half in jest and half in earnest.

"But you must," she would say in a monotone. "You have to..."

"Yes. Join the blah army and liberate the bleh people," he would reply, rolling his eyes. The routine was too predictable, and he did not need her constant summons to tell him where he had to be. His own Waking Dreams were a more than adequate guide. "It's not like I can't see it too."

Her expressionless features would sharpen slightly, showing her disapproval at his disrespect.

"I'm sorry," he would apologize half-heartedly. "But give me some credit here. Have I ever disappointed you? Anyways, Adios." Then, he would turn, disappearing into a teleportation spell.

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_I wonder how she is...after I left her. _ thought Rakasvi guiltily. _And she was actually sad at Luc's passing..._

Shaking his head, Rakasvi pulled off his blankets. He hugged himself momentarily, feeling the slight chill. He still had not acclimated through the many years in the north. He preferred the hot and sweltering jungles and tropical storms of the south, the land of his birth.

_I doubt I can sleep now...might as well go take a better look at the place...I wonder what's in the food stores..._

With that thought in mind, he left the room

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There's a plot in there...somewhere. Thanks for reading, hope no one's eyes fell off.

Suikorin


	4. Flirtatious Lady

AN: Alright, this chapter might sound like a bunch of episodic ramblings, but everything will make sense...eventually.

Chapter 3

Things were just creeping along in Vinay. Cargo ships came in and out of port as usual. Seagulls circled the wharf and perched on the buoys. Street venders shouted at the top of their lungs to advertise their goods. Children played on the streets, pretending to be knights. Zexen regulars patrolled the various avenues, keeping a sharp eye, looking for any trouble.

Rakasvi strolled down Port Avenue. He wore a plain green shirt with matching trousers tucked into soft leather boots. A gray coat, patched and slightly moth eaten extended halfway to his thighs. His long hair was plaited into a simple ponytail and hung down his front right shoulder. Over his shoulder slung a gray sack. Idly, he patted the small lump in his left breast with a gloved left hand.

_They sure trust me quickly_, he thought. _Paying me weekly and sending me on solo purchases. Heck, even Morgan gave me a pet name, Ra._

Things had more or less gone smoothly for Rakasvi in the three weeks he spent under the Redrum roof. From the start of his servitude, he had made known his industrious and obedient nature. Even on the first day, he woke before anyone in the house stirred. He prepared the daily washbowls and towels for everyone, without even making a sound. Then he groomed the horses, polished the armor, and served tea just as everyone came ambling in the dining area. He dusted, cleaned and mopped with all the practiced briskness of a well-practiced maid. And when he was required to tutor Morgan, he surprised even Borus with his textbook-exact answers to every question. Sometimes, it sounded like it was Rakasvi who wrote some of the classic novels.

Morgan was quite taken with Rakasvi. Papa had told her that her studies were to increase in intensity and duration. She was already ten years old and had fallen behind the girls at the convents. Morgan was dismayed at the prospect of increased hours at the accursed little desk in the stuffiest room ever imaginable. She would have to withstand hours upon hours of boring, hard-to-understand text reading. She swore that the entire world would fall asleep if they had to listen to Virgil's halting recital of A Complete Zexen History. Then there was the meticulous "lady's etiquette" that she was told to master repeatedly by one of the ladies that Papa hired. She was told to walk slowly, put on makeup, and be silent like a doll. In her opinion, it sounded more like she must crawl, look like a harpy, and become a rock. She would rather be outside, waving that wooden sword around and pretending to be a knight, even if it meant no dinner or extra chores.

With Ra, it was different. He allowed her to go outside to study, provided that she wore a hat. He started off as boring as Virgil, reading the history book with a briskness of a learned scholar. But then he complained to her of how tedious the book was and quite dramatically, threw the book behind him. He brought out a small book called "Legends of the Seas." Never before had Morgan heard of so many interesting stories. Her little mind was plunged into a place called the "Island Nations," where pirates roamed the high seas, searching for untold treasures and unfound love. Then they would go for a walk along the beach, collecting seashells, looking for shiny pretty things and listening to Ra talk about mermaids. And when it was time for Morgan's 'lady's lesson,' Ra, unlike Virgil, sat through one of her lessons. Though Morgan was sure that she saw Ra glaring daggers at the lady, she was happy that he stayed with her. Virgil had never done that.

Virgil, the poor old man, started off feeling mighty suspicious of Rakasvi. For one, Rakasvi was left-handed, which just looked plain odd in the man's blurry eyes. The fact that Rakasvi was Harmonian but did not look completely Harmonian just felt weird. And there was that bizarrely quick mind of his. Rakasvi had an answer for everything, from why the sky was blue to the reasons for the border clashes between Zexen and Tinto. Virgil was about to voice his concerns when Rakasvi introduced him to something called "Mordo Island Tea." Virgil, who had a chronic cough for years suddenly stopped hacking up his lungs. When asked about the tea, Rakasvi said that it was the product of an island near his homeland and that Virgil might have more, if Rakasvi was allowed to have his own small plot in the garden. Virgil, too glad that he did not have that awful cough anymore, said yes and decided to accept Rakasvi entirely.

Derek, unlike Virgil, liked the young man from the start. It would be nice to have some new blood at the Redrum residence in Vinay. Derek was further pleased when Rakasvi showed off his knowledge of horticulture. Rakasvi understood the importance of tender loving care to all flowers in order to keep them blooming and beautiful. There was not a flower, plant, bush or tree that Rakasvi could not name, and he even helped Derek pull out the 'correct' weeds.

Lotty...That person troubled Rakasvi. When everyone else had started to trust him, Lotty remained slightly in fear of him. He would give a friendly wave to her in the morning and she would widen her eyes as if she saw a ghost and run away. If he ran into her in the hallway, she would quickly walk in the opposite direction. She completely refused to be alone with him, but could sleep easily in the bunk bed beneath him, as long as her father was there.

Her actions frustrated Rakasvi. In all the years he served under Leknaat, he had mastered the art of gaining trust. They could be innocent little children, or a mass murderer. Eventually, they would put their lives in his hands, never questioning his intentions, and were always willing to go along with his suggestions. But with Lotty, it was not possible.

Lotty...knows something...brooded Rakasvi. He was finally at the end of Port Avenue where the street venders hollered their goods. She might actually see me...Rakasvi knew that only the most powerful magicians or sensitive people could see the dark shadow that wrapped about him as a result of being a bearer of Rune of Punishment. He had much practice in hiding who he was, but he never liked being on guard the entire time. And if he could not gain trust from Lotty, he would have to be extra meticulous of his every action until he accumulated enough money. It was a strain on his nerves that he did not want.

_Perhaps my confidence has gotten the better of me?_

Then there was Borus, the man whom Rakasvi needed the most trust, was never around. The blond short-tempered master was always away, busy with his work as a high-ranking knight. In the three weeks he had worked under Borus's house, Rakasvi had only seen Borus for a total of five days at most, most of it sleeping. Trust could not be gained if there were no chance to prove one self. Then there was Meville, the suspicion wonder boy. There were times when Rakasvi caught the young knight stalking him. When Rakasvi confronted Melville about it, Melville only became even more convinced that Rakasvi was up to no good. The only relief Rakasvi had was that Melville had many duties, which kept the boy out of the house.

But they're hiding something...pondered Rakasvi. The one most glaring oddity about the Redrums was that there was no Lady of the House. Borus must had married at some point to have Morgan as a result. Could it be that Morgan was a child out of wedlock and they just conveniently left that fact out? But the way Morgan was referred to, the 'sole heiress to Redrum fortune,' indicated that she was the legitimate offspring of Borus. Rakasvi wanted to ask someone, or anyone about where the Master Lady was. So far, it sounded like she died in childbirth, or at least that was Virgil's story. Rakasvi was dubious, as he was also excellent at detecting lies.

Walking past a fruit stand, Rakasvi decided to push thoughts of the people away. For now, he must show that he could be sent on a purchase without running off with the money. That and he had five hundred potch on hand which could buy a few pretty things for Princess Nina of Obel. That little girl should be fifteen by now, and would probably like an ivory comb or hand mirror. He also needed to look for some more suitable texts for Morgan. He would never tell it to Virgil's face, but Morgan never understood a word of the esoteric texts they had for her. Because of that, Morgan was woefully behind her peers.

For the next hour, he took his time to make purchases. Traveling around had heightened Rakasvi's sense of a medium price, allowing him to detect any outrageous overpricing. It helped him, as the street venders, like all merchants everywhere, wanted nothing more than to cheat an ignorant new customer. To that end, Rakasvi was unnervingly calm and patient. He often made a counter offer that was only slightly higher than the actual price. When they refused, he merely threatened to walk off. Usually, that was enough to make the sale. Rakasvi could have driven the price to bare bottom, if he was still out traveling by himself. For now, he enjoy being the idiot, because people usually don't pay much attention to idiots.

Unfortunately, that was not what happened.

Rakasvi was about to make one last purchase when everything suddenly became quiet.

"Um...So how about this cabbage? Five potch?" offered Rakasvi to an oily looking man.

"Five potch?" the man was staring way past Rakasvi for some reason.

"Yes. Five Potch," confirmed Rakasvi, trying to ignore the crisp click of heels and the awed moaning of the people behind him.

"Yeah..." the oily looking man was dazed. "..Of course..."

Rakasvi already had a pretty good idea who was there, but he had a faint hope that it wasn't who it was. He reached in his coat for some potch when a dainty slender-fingered clasped white hand thrust in front of him. The hand opened, dropping five potch into the palms of the dazed looking vender.

"Well. Isn't it my serious good Captain, heheh," said a throaty voice.

_Oh God, please don't let it bet her!_ Rakasvi's hope was immediately dashed when he turned around.

"Jeeeane..." uttered Rakasvi, pushing back his urge to choke. He was not exactly surprised to see her. He had worked too many times with her to be surprised by her sudden appearances. She was however, very close to him physically, with one finger rubbing his chest suggestively in a circular fashion.

"Oh...Yes! Hehe. It's me. Jeane," she said flirtatiously.

"You're wearing..more..clothes," said Rakasvi in a barely restrained voice, when he really wanted to tell her to go away. She had changed her wardrobe since he last saw her, which was a good thirty years at least. This time, she wasn't even showing her belly. The one-piece dress had actually kept her ample breasts from falling out, unlike the piece of cloth that she wore when he first met her.

Jeane giggled at Rakasvi. This boy had always been so shy! And tormenting him with improper gestures was just plain fun. She did feel that she must reward him with something for being such a willing playmate.

"My good man," said Jeane to the cabbage seller. She batted her long eye lashed eyes at the man, still speaking in a flirty tone. "Why don't you give me four?"

The oily man looked like he was about to drool. He stared at the willowy woman, made taller by her extra long heels.

Jeane smiled wider than before. She had this man wrapped around her little pinky. She leaned forward, showing off her overly endowed chest. "Please?"

"Sure..." The oily man had started to drool...a lot. He fumbled for the green round things, still staring dreamily at Jeane. When Jeane winked at him, little heart balloons formed near his head, and he consciously pushed the cabbages off his cart.

Rakasvi dropped, catching four non-drool-covered cabbages. He shoved them in his newly bought bag, and took one big step, trying to flee.

Jeane's slender arms reached over quickly, cuffing and effectively trapping the young man's neck in the nook of her elbow, yanking him back. She pressed her bosom close against him, and at her height, her two soft mounds came very close to his face.

"You can't leave yet," she whispered sexily in his ear, her lips brushing his earlobes. "We have soooo much catching up to do...heheh."

Rakasvi could smell the alluring fragrances on Jeane; it was the type she used when she really wanted to attract the attention of the opposite gender. It was effective, not that she needed it. He could see that nearly all men in the market area were glaring jealously at him and gawking dumbfoundly at Jeane. But for Rakasvi, he could only feel a headache coming on.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he said, "Sure...if I had time..."

Jean gave a little laugh. She really liked him. Few could ever resist her charm and fewer could take a testy tone to her. He posed a suitable challenge, and he never had disappointed her. "But my dear Captain," she said alluringly, her other hand touching his cheek lustily, "time is all your have.."

"And why now?" Rakasvi looked straight on, trying to avoid her coy advances. What did this woman want from him? Why did she have to be so overtly sexual in the middle of a market place? "We have the rest of eternity to catch up," he said, wanting nothing more than to get away from this place, from all the damn envious staring.

Jeane giggled some more but did not press on. She had a shop to run, and many more people to confuse. "I'll leave you be, if you tell me what you call yourself now."

"Rakasvi," the younger man answered, refusing to crane his neck to face her.

Jeane narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. The name was hard on the lips, and was too long for the anonymity he adored. "Not Paul or Alex? I personally liked Julian."

"I never use the same name twice because I can't modify people's memories like you can," explained Rakasvi exasperatedly. "Besides, Julian perished in Aaron's ten day bonfire, remember?"

"Many people perished that day...Rakasvi," said Jeane, testing the name on her tongue, committing it to memory. "Very well, Rakasvi." She came very close to him and pecked him loudly on the cheek. "I will be in Budehuc...hehe...waiting for you."

"Don't hold your breath," said Rakasvi dryly, warding away the flushing cheeks he felt. Damn her and her Charm Rune.

"Haha..." Jeane loosened her hold on Rakasvi's neck. She was satisfied with that one reaction. For now, she must get what she came for. After all, she did not leave her shop to some inept Rune Sage just for the pleasure of seeing Vinay. No. This man was impossible to find when he wanted to be left alone. Jeane had no way of knowing when he would disappear again. "Oh, by the way, Sana is old and bedridden. You should go see her before she expires."

"Sure." Rakasvi shrugged. Stupid mortals and their habit of getting old.

Jeane looked at him speculatively. She thought he would react a little more to that piece of information. Maybe he had began to lose his humanity? "Also. Sasarai has taken ill," Jeane added nonchalantly, "Some say that he might even die soon."

Rakasvi paused at that news. "That's impossible. He's not supposed to die for a long while."

Jeane nodded knowingly. "So you say he is supposed to suffer for 'a long while?' Sasarai is the balance of Harmonian political scale. Can you imagine what other bishops would do with him incapacitated?

"Actually allow the aristocracy to rule over them, and eventually the Howling Voice," answered Rakasvi. His eyes had a distant look, and for a brief moment, turned completely white. "Another Civil war," he breathed lightly, eyes returning to their original color. "In twenty years time...if the factors are right. Forty if not."

Jeane's eyes narrowed in mirth. It was always so much easier with Rakasvi; he never asked silly questions. "The other bishops are on the move to usurp the power balance, so to speak. But if the Archbishop Alex returns..." Jeane sighed mischievously. "What wonderful fun it would be!"

"Unfortunately, he died in some hunting accident," countered Rakasvi in a mild voice. "They even found a body."

Jeane peered at him meaningfully. "Suppose that he miraculously returned?"

"Suppose that he is lazy and doesn't want to?" offered the youth.

"Do what you will. I have no say in when or where the next gathering of the stars happen."

"And you think that I do?"

"Hehehe...who knows? Perhaps you like Harmonia so much that you want to go back to it? It will be one long, cold gathering of the stars." Jeane turned, ready to walk away.

"Jeane!" called Rakasvi in a low growl.

"Yes?" said Jeane, returning to her sexy low voice. "Do you want something?"

"Of course." Rakasvi resisted the urge to berate her for her continued suggestive mannerism. "I want you to do something about the people's memory of this." He waved in the general direction of the mesmerized and confused people around them. This place was too crowded for someone not to hear their odd exchange.

Jeane looked back and chuckled mysteriously. "I already did..."

It took Rakasvi only a moment to realize that all the staring had stopped. The oily cabbage seller wasn't drooling anymore, but was back to yelling at people to buy his goods, looking puzzled at his wet and slimy cabbages. All the other men in the market place went back to their own businesses and Rakasvi had become just another random passerby in the streets.

"Thanks," said Rakasvi to the air, knowing full well that Jeane had already vanished. He stood there for a few moments, digesting what Jeane had said. It took him a while to think of a course of action. For one, he really wanted to see the Islands and feel the heat of the brilliant sun on warm oceans. Vast grasslands, mountains and unbearable winters really got on his nerves after so many years. However, guilt and responsibility called, and he was stuck in between wants, conscience and destiny.

"I guess Nina will have to wait for her presents..." he said with a sigh.

oooOOOooo

It was about midnight of the same day, and Sir Borus came home with a lady Rakasvi had never met before.

She was one odd lady, nothing like the conventional noble born woman. She wore the familiar heavy armor Rakasvi had seen on patrolling the streets of Vinay, but carried herself as if the hundred pound steel weighed nothing. Her pure white hair was heavily plaited and tied up into a strict bun. Her violet eyes seemed always wide and serious. The lips were curved downward in a faint frown.

They were outside of the gates of Vinay. Rakasvi was ordered out a little earlier to meet their master. It was pleasantly convenient too, as he required a trip out to the field for some private tasks. He had showed up just when the two had placed their horses in the stables.

"You are Morgan's new tutor," she said at some point, looked seriously at Rakasvi up and down.

The young man was carrying a basket, wearing what any regular Zexen merchant would wear.

She looked critically at the young man. Rakasvi was not what she expected when Borus shared the news with her. She expected an elderly scholar, somber and haughty. This person was barely a man yet, and he was Harmonian, which made her slightly apprehensive. She remembered clearly of Harmonian's True Rune gathering policy. What if he was here to get her True Water Rune? She did remember that only the higher classed Harmonians really cared about the policy, and her acquaintance with a Bishop prevented any attempt to steal her rune by regular people. Besides, she felt no malicious intent from this...child. The back of her mind prickled at some faint reorganization. It was probably just the person's partial resemblance to the Man In Black because of the long blonde braid.

"I am Lady Chris Harras, Captain of the Knights," the woman introduced herself, offering a hand.

Rakasvi smiled widely at her.. She was quite a beauty, not in a sexy way that would send men into an oblivious daze, but one that impressed men into their best behavior. Her features were a feminine reminiscent of a former companion. "I am Rakasvi." He quickly took off the leather gloves on his right hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Chris reached over, taking hold of his hand. "Pleasure."

The moment their hands contacted, Rakasvi smiled even wider. His features were lined with merriment and eyes squinted so much that they closed.

For a second, Chris felt a strange short of prickling, the type where one was being tickled by walking barefoot on grass. But the sensation went away faster than she had time to truly notice. She looked to Rakasvi, who still had a silly looking grin on his face. It strangely reminded her of Nash, and how the Harmonian had always been very easy going, but also making her nervous at the same time. Now that she was closer, she noticed that there was a little brown bird in his basket.

"Well, I shall take my leave," he said, looking straight at Borus. "I have a few things to take back."

Borus nodded. Rakasvi had been a decent servant, or so Virgil had told him. Rakasvi needed very little training. All Virgil had to do was to tell Rakasvi where certain items were. Morgan was totally taken with the young man, the biggest factor in deciding the young man's keeping.

He handed him a large lump wrapped in cow leather. "These are some things for Morgan. Show them to her in the morning."

"Alright," said Rakasvi. "Do you need an escort back?"

Borus shook his head. "No. You go on. It's late."

"Yes. My lord." Rakasvi slung the lump over his shoulder and took off.

Chris stared at the young man's fading back. Boy can that fellow run fast, she thought, adding to her still-curious mind. What was that strange sensation earlier? She felt that she knew him, that she could recall a face but could not at the same time. One thing was certain, she would see more of that young man.

oooOOOooo

Rakasvi sat cross legged on the ridge of a red rooftop. He overlooked Master Borus leading Lady Chris to a colorful and cheery looking house along one of the broader avenues of Vinay. The two children were quiet, keeping an eye out for any trouble even though they were officially off duty.

_Hum...Wyatt's daughter now has True Water..._

It took him that handshake, that brief moment of contact to see an entire lifetime play itself in a brutally compacted Waking Dream. His experience had allowed him to hide how he was plunged into a time dilated vision with years upon years of memory blasted into his mind during the mere seconds of a handshake. It took quite a bit of recall from his former training not to reel back in shock.

_Meaning Wyatt is really dead_...thought Rakasvi with shrug.

The news was not unexpected. One of the talents that came with being a True Rune bearer was the ability to forsee the future. The degree of clairvoyance varied by the bearer. They could see the absolute end of the world, or the major conflict that would afflict their beloved lands. Most could only see to the major history turning conflicts, a war, a battle, certain betrayals, everything that had a direct cause and effect.

_But I can see the mere sand grain that could a topple a mountain. Which brings me back to this Harmonia business..._

Rakasvi absently began to tie a rolled up piece of paper onto the leg of the Nasel Bird in his basket. The little bird squirmed slightly, but otherwise remainded obedient and patient to Rakasvi's handling. It was a smart and considerate bird, and sometimes, people say they could actually understand humans.

"I hope that Chris isn't going to give me trouble in the future...unlike those two idiot brothers," said Rakasvi to himself.

The nasel bird looked up with his liquid black eyes in question.

"Don't mind me," apologized Rakasvi.

The bird chirped.

"I know," said Rakasvi. "You don't like being the last to be sent off."

Earlier in the day, he had already sent off more than a dozen nasel birds. Each bird carrying a different message to selected people. He required a little more confirmation of the situation at Crystal Valley. Jeane's words were reliable, but he also needed to affirm who were still loyal and who were not.

"Hum...what's going on?" Rakasvi muttered to himself, looking down to the street.

The two knights were standing closer than what was normally considered as comfortable. Borus held Chris squarely by the shoulders, looking at her and suddenly leaned toward her. It was obvious to Rakasvi that Borus had quite forcefully kissed her. Then Chris did something equally surprising.

Chris did not push him away, but fell into his arms. They made quite a teeth gritting clatter.

_But she is a married woman..._thought Rakasvi. The way she introduced herself had alerted him to her status as an attached woman. Wyatt was a Lightfellow and Rakasvi was certain that Chris would had retained her family name unless she married into another family.

The little affair broke off below, each looking away guiltily. Rakasvi only shook his head and chuckled. "Kids..." He finished tying the fine string to the nasel bird's leg.

"I want you to take this message to a man named Dios," he said to the bird. "Don't come back until he has given you a reply. Okay?"

The bird chirped again and spread its wings. It flew around Rakasvi's head once before shooting off in a northeastern direction.

ooOOOoo

Phew, that took a while. Idea are welcome. I hope everyone enjoy reading this. Contructive criticism is welcome, but please please be gentle.

Suikorin


	5. Preperation

_I just realized that I never wrote a disclaimer for this story. Oh well, as if any one would mistaken all the characters to be originals. Please, I'm not as creative as Konami._

_Anyways, sorry to disappoint, but this chapter will not including much of our beloved Suikoden III character, though it does mention a few. That stuff comes later. I am too much of a Suikoden fan to miss out on the details, though I never played through Suikoden 1 and 2. They're near impossible to find not to mention the many pretty greens that I don't have.  
_

_Anyways, enjoy reading._

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Chapter 4 - Preparations

It was early morning at the mansion. Sir Borus already rode away to Brass Castle. Virgil and Lotty began their daily routine of polish this and clean that. Derek was busy planting some autumn bulbs as the weather was turning slightly colder. Rakasvi and Morgan were out, _supposedly _strolling along the beach while he recited to her the daily lesson.

Morgan had grown incredibly trusting of Ra in the span of the month that he had dwelled in the Redrum house. He was nice, and had the culinary skill of making sweet things. He seemed to know everything, and was more than willing to answer questions that Virgil and Papa would usually say 'you don't need to know.' He did not laugh at her when she said she wanted to be a knight as great as the Silver Maiden. In fact, he offered to train her.

"Really, Ra? You can teach me how to be a knight? How to use a sword?" asked Morgan with vast hope in her voice. She was wearing a frilly white dress and braided her hair. Normally she would scream when forced into a dress, but since it was Ra who asked her, she behaved. "I really want to be like Lady Chris," said Morgan.

"To be a formal Zexen knight, maybe. To use a sword, of course," replied Rakasvi confidently. "But would your father approve?"

Morgan's high spirit dimmed. It was the only thing she did not like about Ra; he always minded her father's approval. "No. Papa says I should just look pretty, learn lots o' books, and marry a good man. He say it's silly for a person like me to want more than that." She looked toward Rakasvi hopefully. "I still can be a knight, can't I? Lady Chris is married, and she's pretty, and knows lots and is a knight."

"Lady Chris is your hero, huh?"

Morgan nodded vigorously. "Isn't she your hero too?"

"Well, my hero is supposed to be the Hikusaak."

Morgan's face was blank as if she could not comprehend.

"He is the head of all Harmonia," Rakasvi further explained. "Remember the world history lesson from a week ago? The One True Hero?"

The little girl blinked, as if suddenly realizing. "Oh yeah! You are Harmonian, so you mean the High Bishop Hikusaak. Yes, I remember, but I don't think he is a hero, is he? He only won one war, didn't he?"

"He also brought stability, order, and peace to a vast number of people," said Rakasvi, sounding very serious. "It's very common for a Harmonian in the older cities to die without ever seeing or knowing war. Don't you think that is more important?"

The girl's eyebrows furrowed, not really understanding but trying hard to. "I guess you're right," mumbled Morgan, still unable to completely fathom what he meant. Ra was difficult like that. He always said those complex-sounding words. All her lessons were mostly about the great battles between Zexen and various countries of its borders, at least that was before Ra came along. Ra seemed to have a penchant for talking about the peacetimes during her lessons. Morgan did not see why people like to get up everyday, work, eat and sleep only. Fighting on the battlefield sounded much more exciting.

Then something in the air caught her attention.

It was a small brown bird floundering through the air. The poor little thing seemed to have hurt its wing because it kept on rising and falling sporadically. It was not very far from them, as far as a short minute run.

"What's that Ra?" asked Morgan, pointing past Rakasvi.

"What?"

"Ra! Look out!" warned Morgan as the bird started a falcon dive toward them.

Rakasvi reacted instinctively, standing over Morgan protectively. In the last second, the bird seemed to changed its mind and it opened its bent wings. It still smacked into Rakasvi's left arm like a rock hurled by an angry mobster.

The animal bounced off the young man, dropping onto the sand, still twitching. Fresh blood stained the white sand. Its liquid black eyes still open, looking upon Rakasvi with humanlike pleading.

The little living cannonball danger abated, Rakasvi stepped away from Morgan to examine the little guy, kneeling down to take a better look at the injured bird.

"Ra! It's hurt!" cried Morgan.

_Well, I'm hurt too..._thought Rakasvi, rubbing his arm, feeling the incipient bruise. _Why am I not getting sympathy?_

The girl bent down, unconsciously reaching for the bird.

"No!" said Rakasvi, holding her off with an arm. "You will only hurt it more. Go inside and bring me a cloth and a pitcher of water."

Morgan still looked reluctant. "But..."

"Go! It'll die if you don't hurry."

That convinced Morgan. She turned and broke off into a sprint for the house.

Now alone, Rakasvi gazed upon the bird with interest. He raised his right hand, a pin point of pale blue in his palm formed. The sphere gained in size until it was a drop size, then it hopped off his palm and onto the bird.

The bird shuddered as a cool refreshing feeling washed over it. It chirped at Rakasvi, looking relieved. Then with trying effort, it attempted to stand up on its own two feet. It managed to hobble for two uncertain steps before falling down, ending with a pathetic sounding hoot.

"Sorry," he murmured to the bird, reaching over. "But I can't heal you completely yet." He turned the bird over to its side, revealing two small rolled up paper tied to each leg with thin ribbons.

The bird cheeped in pain, though Rakasvi's nimble fingers were working as fast as they could to untie the ribbons. It took him two minutes, as the fine strings were tied so tightly, they dug into the bird's legs. Rakasvi did not want to hurt the bird anymore than he had to.

When he finally got the papers off of the bird, he quickly tucked them safely inside his pockets. He would have to read them in his spare time. If the sender were who he thought it was, then sheets would require preperation before the message could be read.

"Ra! I got the stuff!" huffed Morgan, running back with a white towel and a small glass vase half full of water. She had run as fast as her skinny young legs could carry her. It hurt her heart to see such a small thing in pain.

"Good!" said Rakasvi calmly. "Now come here. Pick it up gently with the towel."

Morgan did as Rakasvi bid. She carefully took hold of the little creature with an equally small towel.

The bird never struggled. It calmly allowed the child to pick it up and hold it close to her head. It tweeted sweetly at Morgan, staring at her with those innocent black eyes. Morgan melted immediately.

"Oh, Ra! Will it be alright?" asked Morgan urgently. She remembered how in the stories that people become completely serene right before they pass away. It must be the same with animals, and she would be absolutely crushed if the animal died.

"Of course it will, if you take good care of it," said Rakasvi. "You will need to splint its broken bones."

"I don't know how," pouted Morgan.

"I will teach you. Right now, we need to take it in."

"But Virgil says no pets..." said Morgan mutely.

Rakasvi shrugged. "Then don't tell him."

"Really!" exclaimed Morgan. Ra's easy disregard for certain rules was a habit that she was still getting used to.

"Really. Now go in and clean it up," he said, pointing to the bird.

Morgan nodded and both went back inside.

oOOo

Lotty watched the tutor and child from the open kitchen window. Though they were a good distance off, Lotty could hear Morgan's gales of laughter. The little brown bird that Morgan named "Potch" flew around them, sometimes landing on Morgan's shoulders and pecked lightly at her earlobes.

Lotty sighed. She wished she could be out there in the sun, listening to Rakasvi's stories, rather than doing laundry. Why was she not born into a wealthy family like Morgan?

The little girl had as many pretty clothes as she wanted, as many dolls, and a private tutor. Sure as Borus's daughter, Morgan had her share of daily chores; her strict father would never allow the girl the pampered life of a rich man's properly spoiled only child. Still, Morgan's tasks were never as difficult or vigorous than Lotty's and Lotty was sure that when Morgan came of age, Morgan would most likely marry someone handsome and rich, ensuring the fortune of the Redrum family. And the worse of it was the girl's looks. Morgan was a pretty pale blonde, just like her father, and had unique pale violet eyes. Already there were others in the higher Zexen circles who came upon Borus to proposed a betrothal between their respective sons to Morgan, though he naturally refused everyone.

Lotty though, did not have suitors, even though she was already fifteen. Her hair was a plain brown, and eyes a dark gray. she would most likely had to clean and dust for the rest of her life. Her young hands, already calloused slightly from all the rough labor given to her since she was a child. It was a good thing that Rakasvi had decided to take up the cooking for her, in addition to his own duties.

That was something strange about the young man. He had a knack for preparing drool inducing foods out of almost anything, especially fish. Like that one time when he made puffer fish sashimi. No one really knew what he made, just that the fish had a chewy and pleasantly salty flavor to it. It wasn't until everyone cleaned their plates when he announced that they just ate raw fish. Lotty laughed at the memory. Virgil fell over, trying to regurgitate until Rakasvi reminded him that Virgil ate the most.

"Rakasvi," sighed Lotty dreamily. She wondered what the young man thought of her. Sure she ran away from him, avoided him whenever she could, but it was all because of the inopportune moments that he had ran into her. She would always be in her dirty apron when she saw him, except when they were about to go to sleep in the servant's room. She actually liked him a lot, though she did not know how to act like it. He was the only young man she knew who bothered to smile at her, and he was rather handsome in her eyes. Maybe something would happen between them?

"I wonder what he thinks of me?" asked Lotty to herself. She had finally finished washing all the other tunics, breeches, and clothes from other people. Now she had Rakasvi's coat in her hand, the next article of clothing. As per habit, she reached into the pockets for any of strange objects that usually find themselves into pockets. She had found things like weeds, potch, rings, worms, hair ornaments and legal documents. Typically, she would keep the potch and return the other items to their appropriate places.

This time, she reached in and touched something. "Hum? A letter?"

She grabbed the entire content of the pocket. There were several blank thin papers that smelled strongly of lemon and one letter.

It was an official-looking letter, small and fitting squarely on the palm of her hand. It was heavier than normal paper and sealed with a stamped wax that had a circley-looking design on it. Lotty recognized it as the symbol of the Harmonian government. The neat handwriting on the front was addressed to a man named "Alexander." Without much thought, Lotty carefully pried opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

_Your Worship Alexander,_

_How is our much beloved but presumed dead Bishop? Has meandering the Northern Lands bored you into the open? Or has your love of Harmonia impelled your attention to our miserable homeland?_

_Your concerns of Bishop Sasarai are correct. Some already danced upon his nonexistent grave. Will you be doing something about that?_

_Dios has predictably failed to hide his master's illness from all the other power-grubbing priests though he did prudently prevent any suspicious physicians from entering the palace. The aristocrats are too fastidious to do any mischief with their own hand. I personally suspect the priesthood, though I cannot tell which one is guilty. Most respect Sasarai, but above all, fear him. Sasarai may be the weaker and gentler of the holy twins, but his mind is as sharp as Luc. Those within the priesthood who dared cross his path learned quickly how miserable he can make their life be, in the ways you have taught. Perhaps you will return and teach them some more? Mitchel still embarrasses himself whenever someone mentions your name._

_As for your request for the twin blades, go speak with Thomas at Budehuc. Ask for Mike's personal effects, it should be in the bottom floor of the castle. Take whatever pleases you._

_With reverence_

_Leonard_

Lotty blinked. Her limited education made reading difficult though not impossible. Comprehension wise, she understood little of the contents. Lotty's knowledge of Harmonia was meager at best. Leonard and Sasarai were names that she did not recognize. Dios, though, Lotty remember seeing. Dios was some important person who came once as an ambassador. But why would Rakasvi have a letter concerning some higher tier official?

_I'll show this to Lord Borus when he comes home,_ resolved Lotty as she tucked the letter into her apron. The other blank papers were carelessly tossed into the waste bin. She continued washing Rakasvi's coat, hoping to think up a good explanation if he ever asked her about the letter.

oOOo

Since then, Lotty had acted as normal as she could around Rakasvi, which was actually stopping and making small talk with him. Lotty wanted to know about the letter and just more about Rakasvi in general. The young man had been more than amiable, always smiling and offering a helping hand. Lotty would like to know what made him tick. So she picked that night, right before they were about to sleep, to talk to him.

Lotty was then in her rough but clean beige smock. Derek, her father, was out somewhere, probably cleaning up. Virgil had gone to bed and Morgan was definitely asleep. Her new schedule planned by Rakasvi gave the little girl scarce time to relax, either studying in her room or out swinging sticks around on the beach. It was almost like she was being trained like a squire.

For now, Lotty and Rakasvi were alone in their servant's room. She sat on her straw bed, her long brown hair brushed and shining like polished marble, watching the young man.

Rakasvi was still in his day clothes, his hair tightly braided with a few straying hairs. He sat cross-legged before his dresser, opening the bottom drawer and picking out some of the things he brought with him that Lotty had never seen before. He carefully laid each item in a scattered half-circle about him, pausing every once in a while to think.

Lotty eyed some of the items with envy. There were silver earrings, expensive looking rings, and a very intricate-looking circlet. The other items seemed pretty random - some dried weeds, a pair of dull looking short swords, a box labelled "Rita-Pon," and a glass jar of greenish looking goop. Lotty found her eyes straying toward the rings. She had always envied the rich ladies with their ornate fingers. How their hands glowed and sparkled wealth and beauty. Suddenly, Lotty wondered where did Rakasvi obtain such finery?

"You can take a closer look at them if you like," said Rakasvi, seeing the look on her face, offering one of the rings.

Obviously pleased, Lotty hopped off her bed and squatted down next to Rakasvi. She respectfully accepted a ring and took her time to examine it.

The ring was a thick silver, typical style for a guy ring. Several bluish round gems embedded themselves in the silver, following the same exact pattern that Lotty saw on the wax seal of the letter. In the center of the pattern was a ruby that sparkled like a real flame.

"It's called a 'Guardian's Eye,'" said Rakasvi, holding out five more rings of similar design but the central gem was a different color, dropping them into her hands. "These are of the same set. They're gifts from one of my former masters."

"Oh." Lotty lightly rubbed the rings. They were very pretty, unobtrusive for wearing but pleasant to the eye when noticed. On a whim, she slipped a ring onto her hand. The ring was a little big, and slid freely. Lotty felt slightly faint, having never worn a piece of real jewelry. Her only valuable possession was her passed away mother's wedding ring, which was a sad little simple steel ring. "That master must have really liked you," said Lotty.

The comment almost made Rakasvi choke. "Eh...I wouldn't say he liked me," he said evasively with a pained expression. "More like he found good uses for me."

"But he must be nice to give you pretty rings," said Lotty, looking at the other rings. "Master Borus never gave me jewelry."

"Materialistic tokens don't correlate with pleasantness," chided Rakasvi softly. "I personally like working for Master Borus more than anyone else."

"Really?" said Lotty, still looking at the rings. She slid some more on her fingers, marveling at the sparkle they gave off. One ring even fit on her fore finger. "Why is that?" asked Lotty absent mindedly.

"I don't get worked to the bones here," answered Rakasvi simply. "I am from Crystal Valley, remember?"

"Oh," muttered Lotty mutely, understanding. She heard about how terrible Crystal Valley could be for a third-class citizen. Still, the place could not be that bad, not when they give servants such extravagant gifts. She eyed the rings sadly, since she would most likely never have something so valuable. Lord Borus gave allowances, but her allowance was considerably less than Rakasvi's. And her father took most of the potch. Pouting, she let the rings fall into her palms and offered them back to Rakasvi.

The brazen haired youth accepted them with cupped hands. He saw the longing look on her face. "Hey, Lotty. If you want, you can have a ring."

Lotty looked up, shocked. "Really?" A ring! It felt very much like a marriage proposal, except not.

"Yes," said Rakasvi. He picked out a ring with an embedded pearl in the middle, the one that fit on her fore finger, and pressed it into her palm. "You can have this one."

"Oh! Thank you!" Lotty quickly put it on her left fore finger. "I like this one the best!"

"Glad that you do." Rakasvi smiled. He went ahead and took out a small black velvet pouch and dropped the rest of the rings into it.

The two drifted into silence for a while. Lotty admired her new ring, captivated by the sparkles. Did he mean something by the gesture? He must actually like her. If she ever got enough money, she would take it to have it resized so she could put it on her ring finger. He really did not propose to her, but she would like to pretend that he did. She went to the other dresser and dug out a fine piece of white ribbon. Working quickly, she slipped the ribbon through the ring and knotted it tightly at the ends, making a fabric necklace.

"This way, I won't lose it," said Lotty, putting on the necklace. Then she frowned slightly. "I didn't know men wear earrings..."

Rakasvi was twisting some studs and simple gray circular bands onto his earlobes. "Most don't, but where I came from, it's fashionable." He poked around through a few closed-up holes, wincing slightly at the prickling sensation. Finally a pair of studs and two pairs of rings were placed. He looked slightly like a highway bandit or an infamous pirate.

"Won't Master Borus dislike those?" gestured Lotty toward his eardrops. She thought men only wore one singular earring for fashion sense, not six. And knowing Master Borus's preference for propriety, she could foresee an uncomfortable reprimand coming on.

"I don't think so," replied Rakasvi, pulling out a mirror to check if the jewelry was placed without mishap. He tugged a few strands of hair out of the braid and let them fell to the side of his face, slightly concealing the earrings. He made solemn expressions to the mirror, looking like a completely different person all together. "See, he can't see them," he said without turning.

"Now you look like a girl," observed Lotty. He really did look like a female with soft dark blonde hair all over his face.

"Naw. Eww Boogers looked even more like a girl," commented Rakasvi.

"Ew..who?" Lotty made a mental note to mention it to Borus.

Rakasvi shrugged. "It's a nickname for someone I know. He's a little nutty in the head." He began to put all the random items back into the drawer. An ironic look lightly graced his features. "Like Pissy."

Lotty went back to sitting on her bed, thinking about his last sentence. Rakasvi talked like that sometimes, all cryptic and tittering on the edge of swearing.

"Do you know a lot of people?" she asked with a yawn, trying to get as much out of Rakasvi before passing out. She felt fairly sleepy as it was already ten o clock at night. She wondered suddenly how she almost never saw Rakasvi sleeping.

"I _used_ to know a lot of people," answered the young man. He stood up, earrings sparkled oddly even in the candle light. "Go to bed Lotty. Master Borus is returning in a few of days with a some guests. We will need to be extra prepared."

Lotty pulled her covers to her neck, eyes closing. "How do you know that? Master Borus never said anything about that."

Rakasvi smiled mysteriously. For a moment, Lotty could had sworn that his eyes changed color, but she firmly put it off as the illusion of her sleepy state. She did hear...

"Because I can see it right now."

oOOo

_Notes: Guaridan's Eye is the weapon for Sasarai and Luc in Suikoden 3. As for Rita-Pon...I lost so much money on that stinkin game that I almost trashed my PS2. I must get revenge...at some point._

_Suikorin_


	6. Incident

AN: So...Why did this take so long? Because I'm taking three design classes this semester. Bleh. I want to puke Greek letters. They suck.

Anyways, enjoy reading. And the world of Suikoden isn't mine. There I said it!

* * *

Chapter 5 - Incident

It was late afternoon in Vinay, at a time when the sun dipped deeply into the sea, turning a deep red hue. Market people were wrapping up their stands, closing their shops, leaving room for the night venders to set up their shops.

For Lady Chris, the end of the day was not the end of work. The council had called her in for an extended meeting around the middle of the afternoon. Chris, still a devoted knight to the Zexen cause, came at the council's bidding. The councilors debated the fine print of a new trade treaty with a new nation, often arguing the subtle points to exhaustion. Then they moved on to the rights of the guilds, and the legality of which guilds could sell the spices and tobacco. It was quite dull and dry, with even the secretary almost falling asleep.

For Chris, she sat and feigned interest. Why she was required to sit in this session was of curiosity. She was a knight, a protector of her people. As the glorified "Silver Maiden," she was nothing more than a figurehead for the people to look toward. It was her place to ensure the safety of the people, not to decipher the mysteries of economics. So her mind began to drift as the day became night. Right now, she considered a weird dream she had been having lately, one about the past, about the First Fire Bringer War.

Chris's steel-encased right hand twitched a faint reminder of the True Water Rune that was there. Her limited knowledge of the Runes had taught her that memories of previous bearers would be inherited. She knew this the moment the True Water Rune chose her as its new bearer. It was the reason she knew who Jimba was, without any lengthy explanation. Yet, she could not willingly access his experiences in their entirety. She had attempted to correlate the events she learned from history books with her father's memories, but all she could see was a faint outline of what had happened.

The recent dreams, however, had an exceptional clarity, unlike her rune-acquired memories. For the first time, Chris had crystal clear images, mostly of the early years in the Fire Bringer conflict. The First Flame Champion was there along with Zepon and Geddoe. Her father, simply Wyatt, a respected officer before the unification of the Zexen Federation, stood by his friend's side at all times. There were many others, faces and characters as unique as that strange detective child around Budehuc castle. Sana, who was very much an unrivaled beauty back then, presented herself always by her husband's side. But there was this one person that she kept seeing, a first class magician for the Fire Bringers.

"Lady Chris," called the chancellor.

The sound of her name broke though Lady Chris's vivid daydream. She sat in attention, perfectly serious to each councilor.

"We wish you to meet the head of our new trading partner. Chairwoman Nina of the Island Nations, Queen of the Obel."

The heavy wooden doors of the Council Chambers opened. A tall woman appeared, with icy blue eyes and shoulder-length pale blonde hair tied back into a simple pony tail. She wore plain breeches along with a plain brown jacket. She walked in confidently, assured of herself and everything around her. Two attendees stepped in behind her, obviously in service of Nina.

Chris's interest was piqued. It was unusual to see a woman in the position of power, with Lucia and herself excluded. "I am Lady Chris," she introduced herself, holding out a hand.

Nina took Chris's hand firmly and smiled, a disturbingly familiar smile that Chris could not quite place. _Where have I seen that before?_

"Miss Nina expressed desires to view our knights in action," piped Marcus, one of the most affluent and heavy of the councilors. "We consider you, Lady Chris, to be a most appropriate candidate."

At the end of that sentence, a small squirrelly-looking man with a hunchback scuttled by Nina. "I am Sicham," he rasped, rubbing his hands together nervously. He had a mess of scraggily gray hair and bugging eyes with tiny pupils. A noise, as sharp and hooked as a vulture, gleamed from its oil. "I'll be the translator for Miss Nina." At Chris's puzzled looks, Sicham further explained in his windy voice. "The Islanders speaks a different language, m'lady. The council hired me so I may facilitate communication."

At that Nina smiled mysteriously, a slight twitch of muscle that was not lost on the lady knight. Nina spoke for the first time, crisply in an odd tongue Chris had never heard of before.

"Miss Nina said that she has been greatly pleased by the council's selection," said Sicham. "She will certainly be looking forward to the tour."

"Tour?" questioned Chris.

"Of our knights of course," said Marcus as he nodded to Sicham. The squirrelly-looking man nodded and spoke a few words to Nina. The exchange was brief and Nina bowed slightly, walking backward and out of the council chamber.

"As I was saying," continued Marcus now that the foreigner was gone, "You are to entertain Nina at leisure. Give her gifts, show her the city. Things like that."

Chris frowned. The council had never given assignments like this to her before. "May I inquire why me and not the official hostess, Victoria?"

The councilors looked at each other, questioning glances passed around. There was something they did not want to say. Finally, one of the Guild masters spoke. "She specifically requested for a Lightfellow."

Chris blinked. Lightfellow was a name that no one held anymore. She herself had married and specifically changed her name, partially to avoid Rune-obsessed lunatics. But to have someone from such a faraway land know a Lightfellow...it was an intriguing mystery.

Marcus looked around, and, seeing that the councilors had nothing else to say, he thumped his chest. "Let us give thanks to our goddess for the opportunity to meet here today."

Chris held her fist to her chest, saying the same words, but her mind could only think of Nina's knowledge of the Lightfellow.

* * *

"Oh Ra! Look at this!" squealed Morgan. She sprinted toward the teddy bear stocked on a shelf, dragging her tutor/babysitter by the hand with her. Her first time in town without that stuffy butler Virgil, and she was ready to explode! "I want this! Oh! And this!" She suddenly noticed the licorice barrel. "Can I have some of this too?" she asked, putting on her most winsome smile.

Poor Rakasvi was forced to be dragged everywhere, as her tiny hand would never falter in its grip. He stumbled, tripped, skipped and even hopped trying to stay on course to random directional changes. She pulled him one way, and then yanked him in another. A cute little stuffed animal would catch her attention then some shiny thing would turn her the other way. Since she was smaller, she passed between wooden boxes like it was a playground. Rakasvi, though, had to dance out of way many times, knocking over crates and goods. Many shopkeepers gave him evil looks each time he knocked over something, but he never had time to stop, because Morgan had already lead him away from the area. Seeing her so excited certainly filled Rakasvi with satisfaction, if only she was not so hyper!

Random bystanders had to scoot themselves out of the way many times. The other children just looked at them in question. Adults shook their head but smiled with understanding. Knights frowned slightly, disapproving of such rash behavior from a child. Little girls should be pretty and quiet like a doll. Some of the better-situated ladies started to gossip as they saw who that child belonged to.

"Isn't that the Redrum whelp?" said a woman in a hush hush tone.

"What's her name...Mary?" whispered the other.

"No...I think it's Margaret." This one waved an ornate feather fan.

"It's Morgan Anna Redrum," corrected the youngest and the only unmarried lady there.

"Who's that one other man? I've seen him before in the market place...with some wench..."

"That knave!" said a woman, as if suddenly remembering.

"What is it, Victoria?"

Victoria, now with her hair dyed blonde and wearing one of the fashionable puffy beige dresses, began to recall her encounter with the man. She touched her mole lightly, sneering. "That scoundrel! He mocked me right in front of Lord Borus."

"Him?" whispered one of the younger ladies incredulously. The attendant seemed more like a pussy bookworm than a daring youth. No one in their right mind insults Victoria. Though...there was something about the youth that did not seem right...

Victoria narrowed her eyes. She still had not forgiven or forgot what that scoundrel did to her. He cost her time and the chance to investigate the Redrum fortune. Then he even dared to slap her. Never had she been so disgraced, and never by someone so much younger than her. Well, since he was in town...Victoria might as well do something to ease her displeasure..."Hey, you!" she called the nearest servant she had with her.

A timid looking busboy scuttled over. "Yes?" he asked nervously.

"Get the Back Alley Gang for me. I have a business proposition for them."

* * *

At some point, Morgan had noticeably retreated from her hyperactive state. It was middle of the afternoon, and she was content on prancing to whereever the road took her. Ra was with her and she knew Ra would never let them get lost. She treaded lightly on her dainty little feet, feeling happy that her white wide-rimmed hat kept most of the sun off her face.

Rakasvi was carrying a few bags, half of tonight's dinner provisions, half of Morgan's things.

"That was fun," said Morgan, walking along Ra and looking up at him. For the entire morning, she had blithely visited almost all the shops in town. She wanted everything she could get her little hands on. That adorable peach teddy bear was so very cute, and those dumplings smelled so good, she wanted four servings! However, she knew better than to buy everything, because "it isn't becoming of a lady knight to be so indulging," as Ra had reproachingly put it. So she picked out only the outfits she liked and the candy she knew she would eat. Ra was very strict on how much she was to spend. As a reward for her self-restraint, Ra bought her a better practice sword.

"You sure Virgil won't get mad?" asked Morgan as an afterthought. Virgil had strictly forbidden such an excursion to town. She never understood why, nor did she think to ask. Virgil could be very mean about that sometimes. It was almost as if he was afraid of her going outside.

Inwardly, Rakasvi rolled his eyes, thinking about the sleeping powder he put in that Mordo Island tea. He had some experience with botany and gardening, and one of the most fundamental drugs one learned to make was slumber inducer. Overall, he was glad he spiked Virgil's tea or Virgil would have probably informed the knighthood and put up wanted posters all over Vinay by now. "No. I'm sure he won't be angry," said Rakasvi. _As long as we get back before he wakes up._

"Do you think Lotty would like that bracelet I picked out?" asked Morgan. She was very considerate with purchasing stuff. Lotty had always been like a distant elder sister to her. So Morgan felt like doing something nice for Lotty.

"Of course." Rakasvi had helped Morgan in the selection of the gift. That night of talking to Lotty had given him a good idea of what the young woman liked.

Morgan went on to chatter about the other children she saw on the streets, the knights and the other ladies. Being inside most of her life, she never really saw what being a real lady was like, other than what Pamela, her lady-manners teacher, had taught. Generally, she didn't like how those women were holding up their fans and looking mischievously in their direction. And the knights! Oh how Morgan wanted nothing more than to parade on to the Guild Hall Broadway in a white horse, wearing full shining armor! She even saw Lady Chris! Morgan, high on licorice sugar, sprinted toward the woman, but Ra caught her by the collar of her top and hauled her to the side. He never really told Morgan that they were not supposed to be out. He just thought it would be most educational if Morgan saw more than just the compounds of the mansion. Trying to explain to Lady Chris why Morgan was on a sugar high was not in his plan for the day.

That and he had a couple of runes affixed. One can never be too prepared when going on a trip to Harmonia alone.

They were just about to turn into street to go home when some smelly and ragged fat dude stepped in front of them. Morgan bumped into him, and fell backwards.

"Hey!" complained Morgan, crumpling her nose as the smell of rotten eggs intruded upon her olfactory senses. "What's the big idea?" she demanded.

A small group of men, the regular street low lives started to surround them. Most of them wore ragged clothing, and some brandished small knives. It only took Rakasvi mere seconds to realize that they were trapped in an alleyway.

"Aww...the little girl is angry," cooed the fat man, giving her another whiff of his nasty body-odor as he kneeled down to her height. Morgan cringed but tried not to cover her nose; she did not want to be impolite.

The fat man chuckled. Never had he seen such a cute little girl, or one with so much spunk. Almost all children shrank away in fear, but this one questioned him as if he was just another stranger on the street. "Come here to Papa," he said, holding out his arms.

Immediately Morgan stepped back. "No! You ain't my Papa!"

"'Are not,' Morgan," corrective Rakasvi from behind. Espeically in defiance, the child must always use correct grammar. There was some shuffling as he gently put the bags on the floor.

"Oh," muttered Morgan, understanding. "You are NOT my Papa!"

This time, the fat man used a deeper and harsher tone. "Come here, brat!"

Morgan did not like his tone too much. So she marched up to him, and kicked him as hard as she could right inbetween the legs.

"Ah!" The man's eyes popped out as his hands automatically went to his groin area. He tipped over in the brief shock of pain. Some of the scumbags near him laughed as Morgan trotted near Rakasvi and stood behind him. She knew that whatever she did was probably not nice and best if she never demonstrated it in front of her father. Ra though, was chuckling. He had taught Morgan to do that but he never thought she would utilize it so soon.

One of them, neatly dressed in dark leather, high boots, and overly greased hair stepped up. "I see the little wench has spunk," he said with a definitive high air. He fingered the hilt of an old and ornate sword at his side. He drew it out, waving lightly at Rakasvi. "Fortunately, she isn't to be hurt. You are."

Rakasvi tilted his head in innocent confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"We have orders to 'beat you to a bloody pulp,' but..." the leader eyed the girl peeking from behind the young man."I heard that cute brat is Redrum's daughter...is she not?"

"Yes I am!" stated Morgan proudly. To her, Papa Borus was the most important man in the world. "And who are you?"

"Calis." The leader smiled, "Ah...she would make the most perfect ransom..."

"But boss," someone objected from the gang. "Aren't we suppose to leave her alone?"

"A change in plans. We will just have to take her and make him," he pointed to Rakasvi, "our messenger to o' wonderful Redrum. We will get the rest of the money from that hag and the richest man in Vinay. Boys, we'll be loaded!"

Then Calis exploded with laugher at the end of his sentence. Slowly, his minions laughed too, a sick and hesitant laugh.

Rakasvi scowled and flexed his right hand. He felt the Rage Rune burning right beneath his skin as he went to cast a spell.

Nothing happened...

Rakasvi blinked and looked down at the back of his right hand in question.

Calis smiled and held up his right hand. A bluish rune in shape of a waterdrop shone slightly. "Silent Lake. We kept watch on you for an entire day. We know you attached two runes!"

Morgan shrank behind Rakasvi slightly. If it's only one person, she had the utmost confidence in the world that she could somehow get herself out of the mess. This was twenty people, even a fool understood the odds. "Are they going to hurt us badly, Ra?" she whispered.

Rakasvi looked at her and smiled reassuringly. He did not want Morgan to panic. She might not be an ordinary little girl, but this was her first time out and about in town. He wanted it to be a positive experience for her. He kneeled down to her height. "Milady," he explained with a smile, "those people are too weak to get past me, so don't worry. They can't hurt us."

"Weak!" roared the fat man. He had recovered from Morgan's wonderful kick. "There are twenty of us and only one of you!"

"Yeah!" agreed another. "You are so dead!"

The smile immediately blanched into a mask of annoyance. Rakasvi stood up and turned to face them. "If you are so intent on hurting me, then why haven't you gotten to it yet?"

The leader was taken back slightly. Most of the people they trapped, granted they were civilians, cowed in fear. He had expected the same thing with a scrawny boy nanny. "We are going to beat you into a bloody pulp, you little runt," spat the leader, raising his voice and drawing his sword. "In fact, we might even kill you."

"Well, then get on with it," encouraged Rakasvi, his voice carrying a chill formerly absent. "You don't have all eternity."

His statement had confused the street gang slightly. The leader shook his head, thinking that the runt was just playing mind games. "Get him!" he yelled.

At the street gang leader's words, Rakasvi blurred immediately out of sight. He showed up again, right behind a scruffy looking man, whacking him hard in the back of the neck.

"Ahh..." whimpered the man before he fell over.

The rest of the gang did not have time to absorb what had happened. The young man disappeared again. This time, taking down another man right next to the leader.

"How?" uttered the greasy haired leader in disbelief. He did not even see the young man move!

Rakasvi appeared again, only three feet in front of the corpulent man. "Eighteen of you and one of me," he said before a hand shot out like a snake, grabbing and choking the stout throat. With inhuman strength, he flung the corpulent man into a stone brick wall. There was a nasty crack about the ragged fat man's head as he fell unconscious.

"Seventeen," Rakasvi declared coolly, right before another one fell with a defeated moan. "Sixteen."

Things were happened too fast. Calis tried to follow the "runt's" movements but couldn't. He saw men collapse right where they stood. He heard fist connecting with necks or heads, the pained grunts before men fell.

Morgan watched with fear and fascination. She had never been in a real fight before. The closet thing she ever came to a real fight was the commonly taught sword drills, not bare fist fighting. "Go Ra!" she cheered on, hoping to help Ra out.

Calis, now with less than fifteen men standing, was starting to panic. He was told that pasty face could never hold up any real resistance. Victoria specifically warned them of the possibility of magic, seeing that this young man was a scholar worthy of tutoring a Redrum whelp. Even so, Calis had taken precautions and took nineteen men with him. Now, he feared for the moment that this Ra person decideded to focus attention on him.

"Eleven," enunciated Rakasvi with scholarly clarity, suddenly stopping only mere inches away from Calis's face. The pair of green eyes had turn into pale blue, icy and inhuman. "Will you let us go now?"

Calis, in the moment of irrationality, raised his sword and swung down as hard as he could.

The sword flew through the air, targeting Rakasvi's neck. With unforeseeable speed, Rakasvi's left hand shot up, catching the blade by the palm of his hand. He winced lightly as the steel cut through his thin black gloves and into his hand, drawing blood, grating against his bones. In an act uncommon to any fighting style, Rakasvi clenched his left fist, wrapping his fingers around the blade. With a light twist of his wrist, the sword twisted out of Calis's hand. Still holding the cutting edge, Rakasvi flicked the sword in an arch, hitting Calis hard on the neck with the hilt.

Without as much as a whimper, Calis fell.

"Now..." breathed Rakasvi lightly as he turned the sword to his uninjured right hand. He faced the rest of the street gang, looking upon them with slight amusement as one of them boldly said, "We have the little girl!" He was another dirty looking one, his grimy hand staining the girl's clean dress as he clutched the girl tightly by her neck to his chest. His other hand was over her mouth.

Morgan struggled. She had never expected anyone to think about her, not with Ra taking all of the attention. Then this jerk picked her up, soiling her dress and putting his yucky hand on her mouth. In spite, she bit hard into the hand, causing the man holding her to yelp and drop her.

Rakasvi chuckled as Morgan ran to hide behind him again. The little girl raspberried at the guy who got bitten.

"We still outnumber you!" rasped the one. "We will get you!"

"Not when you are burning," sang Rakasvi lightly. The rune on his right hand flared slightly.

Bursts of flame enveloped the rest, charring their clothes, singeing their hair. A bunch of them started to dance, trying to put out the fire.

Rakasvi used this moment of distraction to pick up Morgan and their purchases, slipping out of the alleyway.

* * *

Lotty was quietly folding cloths in the laundry room. Her father was outside in the mid-afternoon sun, planting fall bulbs while Virgil was taking an unusually long afternoon nap. She sang lightly to herself, wondering what wonderful banquet Rakasvi would bless them with. Usually, when Rakasvi was out longer than usual, he would come back with yummy things or presents. Perhaps he got her a present too? Lotty smiled to herself as she took a moment to touch the lump where the ring was right under her blouse. After wearing it for a few days, she learned that there was some magical property to it, though she could not discern what it was.

"Lotty!" cried Morgan, bursting through the door and into to the laundry room, looking frenzied. She jumped up and down, huffing. "You gotta guess what happened to us!"

Lotty put both hands on Morgan's shoulders to keep her from bouncing. "What is it?"

"Ra and bad boys and sword, and twenty and..." Morgan started to babble nonsense, much to Lotty's chagrin.

"Calm down. Talk slower," commanded Lotty.

"Before that," came Rakasvi's usual calm and relaxed voice. He quietly opened the door and set down a number of bags.

Lotty's eyes widen. Rakasvi was holding a bloodied sword, and his black glove had a red tinge and a copper smell to it.

"Would you go to the cellar and bring me a Chardonnay?" he asked pleasantly.

Without asking for a reason, Lotty bolted out of the room. Rakasvi was hurt, and that realization made Lotty feel a sharp pain to her heart as if she was the one bleeding. She rushed outside and opened the hatch to the cellar. Lord Redrum had forbidden anyone to enter the cellar except for himself and Virgil. However, this was an emergency, and surely Lord Redrum wouldn't notice a small bottle missing, would he?

The cellar was dark. Lotty quickly lit the torch and looked through the wine racks. There were at least a thousand bottles here, many undisturbed for perhaps a century. Cobwebs covered most of the corners, and they covered some racks like a flimsy curtain. Lotty went to the one most covered by the cobwebs and picked out the oldest Chardonnay she could. Silently, she prayed to St. Loa for Lord Redrum's leniency. No doubt he would be furious if she picked out one of the more expensive wines. Nearly tripping over herself, she wiped the cobwebs off the bottle and exited the cellar.

By the time she showed up in the laundry room, Rakasvi had taken off his left glove completely. Lotty's eyes widened, seeing _it_ for the first time. His entire left forearm was tattooed. A foreign design of a dark spiral, centered right in the middle of the back hand, expanded forward to the fingers and half way to his elbow. She thought for a moment that it could be a rune, like the common runes they sell in the shops for lighting candles and healing minor wounds, but she could not recognize the design at all. The hand turned, showing a neat but bloody cut right across his palm.

"If you don't mind, please open the bottle," said Rakasvi, looking a little bored.

Lotty blinked but obeyed. She retrieved a bottle opener, jammed the screw into the cork and popped it off. She handed the bottle of precious liquid to Rakasvi, expecting him to take a sip.

Instead, he poured the tan liquid right on his bloodied palm.

"What are you doing?" Lotty sounded like she almost wanted to cry. What would Sir Borus say when she told him the truth? That his precious wine was spilled instead of enjoyed.

"Here's a lesson for you, Morgan," said Rakasvi didactically, pouring the content of the bottle on to his hand. "When you receive a wound, clean it immediately. As we don't have any antiseptic liquids, wine is a suitable substitute. Any type of wine is good. Chardonnay is the best."

Morgan nodded. That would be something she had to keep in mind for Papa was a knight, and he might potentially become hurt in the future. "Will you be alright?" she asked, pointing to the cut.

Rakasvi examined his now stolen sword. While Lotty was away, he took the liberty to wipe the blade clean of blood. There were a few chips on the cutting edge and some red flicks of rust. "We will have to see," he muttered more to himself than to answer Morgan's question. Then he noticed Lotty staring at his left hand quite intensely.

"Gross, isn't it?" he said, a hint of sarcasm snuck into his voice, refering to his left limb. He twitched the fingers. "I wear the glove for a good reason. I don't think I could be working here if Lord Borus saw this."

Lotty quickly looked away. She did not want to be accused of bad manners, though she was curious. "That's some...interesting tattoo."

"I suppose so," he said, tracing the light and dark line where his glove normally covered the skin. It was evident that he had worn the gloves for so long to receive something akin to a farmer's tan.

"How did you get it Ra?" asked Morgan. It was her first time seeing the spiral design too, though she didn't think too much of it.

Rakasvi shrugged. "Follies of youth. I was beat up one time, and when I woke up, this weird looking thing was on my hand."

"It...looks kinda pretty though," commented Morgan. There was a certain symmetry to the tattoo, something holy and powerful about it. It reminded her of a cross between a seashell and a typhoon.

"Anyways," began Rakasvi, "I need to get this thing bandaged up. I think it's time that I start preparing supper."

* * *

End Note: I think I'll go write some more of this story. I's a good escape from the wonderful world of Venturi Preciptators. 


	7. Permission

AN: I feel inspired!

And i need to thank each reviewer individually, so please log in for reviews or leave an email. I'm not too good about leaving messages in the stories itself. I feel...i don't know...embarassed...shy...

Someone 6

Mike, or Leonard, as he was used to being called, was sitting at one of the many tables in a tavern in Caleria. There was a small folded paper sign that said, "Card game for money," right in the middle of the table. Three packs of cards laid in preparation for a game. Mike was wearing his usual slacks and button-up shirt, eyes observing the people in the place.

Dark-skinned Calerians milled around, chatting constantly about the latest gossip. Some Le Buque mentor riders were at the bar, sipping the sweetened carbonated water called soda. One of the Southern Frontier Defense Force Units was at a table of their own, their leader clamoring for another drink.

A waitress, completely shrouded by rough linen so that only her dark eyes showed, came with a tray of soda and set the glass in front of Mike.

"Your drink, sir," she said in the meekest voice.

"Thank you," said Mike, putting some coins on the table.

The waitress scooped up the money, looking around like a thief for a brief moment before scurrying away.

Mike absently took a small sip of the drink, listening intently for anything of interest. People sure do talk about the most important events right at a tavern. Just from sitting here for the last hour, he learned who had been the mistress of some Frontier Units captains. A few merchants were boasting about tax evasion and the one drunk confessed that he once betrayed someone. Then there were the rumors concerning the priesthood.

"Hey, did you know, Bishop Mitchel is visiting Caleria?"

"Really? That sniveling snot?"

"Oh yes! I heard from one of the Frontier units that he has temporary power over the Harmonian legion now."

"What? That's supposed to be Bishop Sasarai's position!"

"Yeah. I know. But Bishop Sasarai hasn't been out of the capital for over half a year."

"Really? Is his holiness alright?"

"Who knows? I do hope his holiness is alright."

"Me too."

There were many more conversations pertaining to the new appointment of Mitchel as general. People expressed their doubts of change and concern of their beloved Bishop Sasarai. Many sincerely prayed to the Circle Rune to bless and return Sasarai to the people.

Mike listened to them all, learning something that was not new. The priesthood was generally the weakest of the three major power groups of Harmonia. The Howling Voice had their near impossible training. The aristocrats had their ambitions. The priesthood had the faith of the people. Control over the military and other internal affairs was by appointment or selection from the three power groups. Traditionally, the priesthood always had the upper hand, with overt support from the One Hero himself. However, their One Hero had not been seen by the people for the last eighty years or so, causing the shift of power to Howling Voice and the Aristocracy.

That is, until the holy twins were conceived.

Mike was not there when the twins were born. He was not sure if they were even _born_. The information he received later about their origin were scratchy at best. The ones present there either disappeared or were sworn to secrecy. Any paper records were destroyed, the truth forever buried with silent people.

Mike was there when the two were made into bishops. One had the love of the people. One had the loyalty of the powerful. Both were overwhemingly intelligent, and worked tiredlessly to realize their ideals. Above all, both cared for humanity. If only they had cooperated and not opposed each other, they would have strengthened Harmonia to the glorious state it once was before.

Then, the place was hushed for a moment as a new patron entered. It was a woman, an obviously Kage woman named Ayame.

Mike raised his eyebrows but otherwise kept his usual smile.

Ayame strolled across the room, her muscles rippling underneath the skin-tight clothes, only covered by a heavily overlaid short cloak. There were a few scars, though faint, on her neck.

People stared. Ayame was beautiful even with her face half-covered by a cloth guard. She moved with cat-like grace, evidencing significant training as a warrior. Even the one Defense Force Unit whistled at her.

Ayame ignored them all, and walked toward the table where Mike was. She seated herself briskly across from him.

"Cards?" asked Mike as he opened a deck of cards. Ayame shook her head but Mike started to shuffle the cards anyways. The smile on his face never faded in spite of the growing frown on Ayame's face.

The meek waitress from earlier scrambled over expectantly.

"I don't want anything," said Ayame quietly, staring intensely at Mike.

"Don't listen to her," interjected Mike. "Bring out your best drink. She's my guest."

The waitress nodded and scurried away. The card player had been a decent customer, always paying more than the cost of the drink. The more expensive the drink, the more money into her own pockets.

Ayame shifted ever so slightly to indicate her agitation. She watched the waitress's eagerness to serve Mike and shook her head. Only stupid shrews could be bought by a man with money, especially by a man as treacherous as a Guild Elder.

Mike was still smiling when he passed out the cards. "What can I do for you?"

Ayame reached into the extensive folds of her garment. A piece of parchment, neatly folded, was slipped out in between her fingers. She slid the sheet across the table.

Mike glanced down at the sheet. It was a letter, a written correspondence between the intended receiver, "Elder" and a sender, "Alexander."

"What's this for?" asked Mike, looking at his cards. The pair of aces was much more interesting than a scribbled piece of paper.

"You have become careless," commented Ayame. "We intercepted the nasel bird."

Mike snorted. With Bishop Alexander, seemingly careless mistakes were often traps for unwary enemies. Only idiots would celebrate a small victory against him. "And your point is?"

Ayame's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. "My sources confirmed that the sender is indeed the Arch Bishop."

"Okay." Mike shrugged.

"The Kage had gotten rid of him more than fifteen years ago."

"A knife in the back, then gore out his innards?" sang Mike as if he was in a comedic play. "Blame it on a boar. Found the body and burned it. Am I correct so far?"

"I am only a messenger," said Ayame crisply, annoyed at Mike's joking tone. They may have been allies during the Second Fire Bringer War, but that did not give him the pleasure to assume such a relaxed tone. She was here on business. "He isn't dead?" she asked again.

Mike snorted. "That isn't the question you should be asking."

Ayame did not say a word, but only gazed at Mike with piercing eyes. She did not like mind games. Any mind game is dishonorable, an act only a traitor would utilize.

The Howling Voice was an exception. They picked only the gentlest children. Then they broke their minds. They did not need humans; they needed drones, children and adults who would do all that was necessary to accomplish the mission. It would be a shame not to use the fragile human psyche to their advantage.

"So, is he?" asked Ayame.

"Depends on if the Kage want to survive or not," said Mike, putting down a pair of two's.

Ayame scoffed. "You speak in meaningless riddles."

"And apparently, it's so meaningless that the Kage had to send a lapdog to Caleria."

Ayame's hand visibly clenched her muscles. Only Watari had ever spoken so disrespectfully toward her.

Mike sighed and waved a hand. "Fine, He's alive."

"Good." Ayame said in between clenched teeth. She abruptly stood up, nearly knocking the chair over. She brushed past him, urgent to send the confirmation back to the Kage.

"My advice to you," said Mike, catching her wrist. He flashed a full house at her. "Is to stay out of Crystal Valley for the next month or so. He may not believe in personal vengeance, but earn his ire, and his retribution cannot be withstood even by immortals."

"That's an empty threat," said Ayame with a chilling smile. She randomly picked out five cards from her pile. "Bishop Alexander never killed, nor even paid a Howling Voice for assassination." She threw down the cards and stalked out of the tavern.

The waitress waddled out of the kitchen with a fine bottle of chilled wine. She shuffled past the whispering patrons. "The finest of the..." she began to introduce the purplish bottle partially wrapped in a plain clothe.. "Where did the lady go?"

Mike flipped over the cards. It was a king, a queen, a jack, an ace, and...a joker. "She's gone to provoke hellfire."

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"Tomorrow, estate freemen will show up in the early hours of the morning," declared Borus. "We are to entertain a guest for the Guilds in a few days."

Everyone at the dining table looked at each other expectantly. It had been a while since Borus had entertained people right here in Vinay. Down on his south estates, it was a common occurrence. His family fortune required constant interaction with the snooty people and those who worked on the land. Here in Vinay, though, Borus never bothered throwing grand balls. Corruption within the guild members who lived in the city made him wary of any snooping dogs right here where his daughter was.

"May we inquire as to who will attend?" asked Virgil.

"A few notable dignitaries, Guildsmen, The Zexen Six," answered Borus tersely.

Lotty accidentally dropped her fork, making an awkward clattering. She glanced sideways to Rakasvi who was not even paying attention to her. No, he was poking despondingly at his steak in the same manner Morgan was poking at her peas.

"Meaning, Lady Chris asked you to throw this party," said the all-knowing Rakasvi still prodding at the piece of meat, not bothering to return Lotty's gaze.

For a moment, Lotty was concerned. Rakasvi had not been looking well for the last couple of days. Her culinary creations were usually fit for kings, so why wasn't he stuffing his face like the others? He seemed deeply absorbed with something, like he was plotting something. Perhaps he was in pain? Lotty never saw how the cut from two days ago healed.

Borus turned his attention toward the young man. To the knight's knowledge, the young man had been mysteriously quiet the entire night. Usually, Rakasvi took the liberty of informing Borus on his daughter's progress, ending the habitual nervous silence. He would often say how brilliant that Morgan was, if only she had started structured education earlier. At first, Borus thought Rakasvi was lying. Borus had no proof that his daughter had learned anything. When she was tested six months ago, she failed miserably in each subject area, much to Borus's disappointment. Therefore, when Rakasvi first started to talk about Morgan's progress, Borus decided to promptly test her, beginning with the prayer memorization from the books of St. Loa.

Morgan was not a girl to disappoint her father. She recited in a precise, clear voice, the entire section without halting. Borus did not believe it. Morgan's former tutor could never get Morgan to memorize even the multiplication table. Virgil barely had her learn the alphabet. Now, she babbled about account ledgers and even knew how to splint broken bones. Borus was very much pleased. If everything continued the way it should be, Morgan would become an excellent bride for a Lord of an estate.

"How did you know that?" asked Borus, puzzled at how Rakasvi knew about the upcoming ball. As Borus could recall, Lady Chris herself had personally came to him just that afternoon with her request, in private. There was no one she trusted who had the facility for a showy gala. She did not want it in the Guild Halls where the councilors could meddle with their own personal agendas. Percival had a large home, but his home was in Iksay. Leo's and Salome's humble abode was just that, very humble. The Lady's own home was too small and she too inexperienced in the matter. So she came to him, asking him for the usage of his mansion and his help.

Borus, being the devoted knight, agreed. So now, he was given official leave so he may man the Vinay estate and prepare for a showing to impress the foreigners, a task as normal as drinking wine for him.

"Melville told me," Rakasvi answered.

"I see," muttered Borus. Melville had definitely been informed of the up coming event. Borus had assigned Melville to be one of the demonstrating swordsmen. Rakasvi probably bumped into young knight during one of his market trips. Melville did have patrol duties.

"I have a request," said Rakasvi suddenly. He picked up a glass of water with both hands and placed it right on his forehead. The damn humming from the magically forged earrings had been a constant background for a week. The humming somehow induced a mild fever and variable headache. Those were sensations he had more or less learned to ignore, as the same conditions persisted for a long time during his youth. He would be concerned if there was no side effect. "I need a three week leave."

Several people said, "What?" No servant, tutor, or any attendant could just take off when ever they wanted. Rakasvi, who had been the model servant up to now, should have known better than to state that.

Borus, overcoming his impulses, kept silent. When he was younger, he would had smacked the table and had been the first to demand an explanation. Instead, some semblance of thought was in his eyes when he asked calmly, "Why so sudden?"

"Personal reasons," replied Rakasvi with a wince, hoping that Lord Borus would accept his wish to be secretive. "I do not wish to reveal it here."

"Speak with me in private then."

"When?"

"Before Light's out, in my study."

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After dinner was eaten and the dishes washed, everyone retreated to their pre-slumber routine. Virgil sipped his tea as he refilled some lamp oil. Lotty went to prepare Sir Borus's bedding. Rakasvi and Derek were out in the front gates, moving some of the necessary materials for the upcoming gala.

Borus, having rare father and daughter time, was reading a bedtime story to Morgan.

Morgan yawned, trying to stay awake as her father was trying to get her to sleep. Papa rarely came home, always away at work. Before, when she was about seven, she used to beg him to stay home, often clinging to his leg right before he left for Brass Castle or the Tinto Border. Virgil had to pry her off of Papa's legs many times, and she protested with screaming, crying, and the occasional glass shattering. Worse, she would sometimes paint his armor with paints from Goddess knows where. Then at times, she deliberately messed up her appearance or faked illness to make him stay.

Now, everything was slightly different. She would still beg, but did not scream or cry. She would pout and give him puppy eyes when he left, but otherwise kept from vandalizing and lying. Rakasvi threatened to leave her alone with her lady-manners teacher for days if she did that.

"You should get to sleep," said Borus, closing the story book and prayer book. He rubbed his eyes. It had been a long tiring day training new squires, and his conversation with Lady Chris wore him down further. The room only dimly lit by one candle lamp did not help either. This was his daughter though, the one person he loved more than anyone else. She was worth more than measly lost slumber.

"But if I sleep, I won't see you or Ra when I wake up," complained Morgan in a small voice. She actually wanted to talk about how great Rakasvi handled those alley miscreants, but at each moment she wanted to mention it, something came up, like how Rakasvi had to help Papa take off his armor, or Lotty rushing Morgan off for a bath.

"Well, I will have to be here tomorrow to coordinate the men. Rakasvi can be here if you want."

"Well, you are letting him go on a trip, right? He had been really nice to us."

"He's a servant. He is also paid," reminded Borus.

Morgan shook her head in disagreement. "No. Remember Jenna, my first nanny? I know you give her the same money you give Ra now. I saw it in the number books."

Borus frowned upon that. He never expected her to be looking in the account ledgers. That was personal information with many implications that Morgan would not understand.

"Jenna was mean," said Morgan, her lips curved downward. "She's as dull as Virgil and makes me do those number thingies. Where did she go?"

"She got married," answered Borus. He actually wished to keep Jenna...until he found out that she was pilfering from his treasury.

"You know...Ra looks very lonely sometimes," said Morgan, changing the topic. "He talks about this girl named..." she paused, thinking."...Sana, I think that's her name."

"Really?" That name sounded so familiar, but Borus could not recall where he had heard it from.

"Yes. He told me she was really pretty and he really liked her. I asked him why he didn't marry her. And he said that his friend needed her more."

"Love for a friend..." commented Borus noncommittally though he understood the feeling.

Morgan crawled out of her covers and pulled her father close to her. She whispered to his ear, giggling slightly, "I think he wants to go see her. Isn't it romantic?"

Borus gave her one of those bemused looks. He did not expect his daughter to fully understand the concept of romance, but from the sound of it, she probably did not understand. "Who put that idea in your head?"

"Um...I don't know..." she said, slightly defeated.

"Go to sleep, Morgan. Papa will be here when you wake up."

"Alright, I'll go to sleep, but only if you pinky swear," she demanded with all the serious formality she could muster. She held out her enclosed right hand with her pinky finger out.

Borus chuckled lightly. How long had it been since he pinky swore? He did hook her tiny finger and pressed their thumbs together, his thumb was at least three times larger than hers. "I pinky swear that I will be here when you wake."

Morgan smiled winsomely and pushed herself up with sleepy strength. She encircled her arms around her father's neck and gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek. "But you will honor Ra's request, no?"

"Don't worry about it Morgan," said Borus, tucking his daughter in comfortably in bed. She obediently wormed into the covers, blinking her tired violet eyes. She was still a very small girl, adorable and precious like a treasured gem. She snuggled, her features devoided of all worries. She was content in the innocent belief that Papa could do no wrong to people. "Good night Papa."

Borus stroked her blonde hair, marvelling at how soft and pale it was. _She will be shockingly beautiful someday just like her mother, _he thought proudly like all fathers do. He bent down to kiss her good night on the forehead.

"Sleep well, my Morgan."

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Rakasvi held a lamp up high for Derek to see.

The cart was nearly empty as the two continuously transfered the supplies from it to the granary inside the mansion. Derek did most of the heavy lifting, as Rakasvi was a scrawny youth who possessed a cut on a hand.

Derek did not mind at all. He was a healthy middle age man with a lot more strength than someone half of his age. Besides, Rakasvi was trying his darnest to carry as much as he could. Derek always believed that if a person tried their best, then he could ask no more.

Rakasvi was a puzzling young man. Even after three months, Derek still knew little to nothing personal about the youth. Rakasvi had no origin, no family to speak of. He never wallowed in self-pity, rarely thought ill of people. He could be sickeningly happy or unwholesomely unexcitable at times. Rakasvi acted too normal, too calm for a professed war orphan.

"Sorry that I'm not much help," apologized Rakasvi again. "Those sacks of potatoes must be heavy."

"That's alright lad," said Derek, waddling through the kitchen path with a large potato sack in hand. "We all have different strengths. I am strong physically, but you know swordplay."

Rakasvi looked at Derek critically. "So you can tell, huh?"

"I served the Redrums my entire life," explained Derek. "I was here when Sir Borus was still Squire Borus. He had private instructers too. Three of them. They all have similar calluses in the same places you have."

"Hum," intoned Rakasvi with a shrug, though he did look down at his hands. True, the calluses were there, though they had softened due to lack of actual practice.

"Who taught you? You seemed to know what you are doing."

"The people who picked me up from the ocean."

"From the ocean," said Derek thoughtfully. That little piece of information eliminated many areas east of Zexen. "I thought you were a war orphan."

"Well, I was told that a merchant ship came across a baby crying at sea. They tell me that there was a war in the islands nearby and I was lucky enough to float away in one of the spare rafts."

"A baby huh?" Derek dumped the sack into the storage area. He patted his hands, dusting off the soil and dirt. "So you never knew who sired you?"

"Oh, I learned who sired me later on," answered Rakasvi with ease. "He's dead though."

"And what of your mother?"

"My mother..." for an odd moment, Rakasvi looked slightly pained. He looked down and held his clenched left fist to his heart as if he felt hurt. "She's...not of this world anymore..." Rakasvi blinked and looked back up. Eyes faded from green to blue and suddenly back to green.

Derek rubbed his eyes, thinking that some lint had made him to see things.

"What about you Mr. Derek?" asked Rakasvi wanting to turn the attention away from himself. "Where's your wife? Your daughter said that she has passed away."

Derek snorted. "Estalla? No, she did not pass away. I just can't stand her anymore."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because she lied constantly," said Derek, raking his hair with one calloused hand. "Don't get me wrong, I loved her, and she is one sexy woman. But I would rather that Lotty doesn't end up like her."

"Oh."

"Don't tell Lotty about that, okay? It's better that she doesn't know."

Derek turned out leave the storage area. "Anyways, you probably want to go see if Lord Redrum is ready to receive you. I can do the rest from here."

"Thanks," said Rakasvi relieved. He paced steadily away from the storage, and back into the main hall of the mansion.

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When Rakasvi showed up in the study, no one was there. The room was still completely dark. An ultra fine layer of dust revealed how rarely people ever came in here. It was to be expected though, since the Master of the mansion was often away at Brass Castle. Feeling slightly lazy, Rakasvi sat down as he released a little magic of the rage rune in his hand. Each of the six wall candle lamps and the two oil lamps were lit instantly. He turned his head to observe each wick, looking for any overspill of wax and oil. He was pleased to see all of them were the same as if they were gently lit by hand.

_Good. Control is coming back_, he thought with certain satisfaction. A rage rune was brutish in its execution. It wanted nothing less than a conflagration; a useful rune to incinerate enemies if one wanted total annihilation. But to use such an overpowering rune for a simple task of lighting a candle was true skill. It was a skill that Rakasvi normally did not have if he did not use the magic amplifying and head-ache inducing jewelry.

A few more seconds had passed, and Rakasvi's usually active mind began to wander. He looked to the decorative framed images on the wall. The ancient map lacked the accuracy of the newer models. As he recalled, Scarlet Moon Empire was no more, and the Kooluk was a little bit more north than originally drawn. He did get a better look at the portrait of the white-haired woman. It did not surprise him that it was a portrait of Lady Chris.

_Lady Chris.._.Thinking about her made Rakasvi wary. No doubt that the True Water, no, the soul of Wyatt, had recognized him as plain as day. It must be hard for Wyatt to forget someone who blasted him with icicles the first time they met. It was harder for Rakasvi to forget the first guy who put a hole in his stomach with a spear the moment after. Magically, Wyatt avoided some of the more important organs and bones and was nice enough to heal Rakasvi with a handy water rune. Then they resumed fighting right afterward.

_Wyatt was actually pretty good..._

One day, he would probably have to come clean about all this before Lady Chris decides to investigate on her own.

Or not.

_Hello Lady Chris, I'm also known as Julian. You know, the magician who almost accidentally killed your father so many years ago, which could have invariably denied your existence and cost the war of the First and Second Fire Bringer?_

Rakasvi cackled to himself, running the possible confession sentence, amusing himself with the possible reaction. How will she take it? Would she be shocked? Would she be angry? By his luck, she would probably try to cut him down right then and there, and if not, have some subordinate cut him down instead. Then Sir Borus would probably dismiss him as tutor and he would still end up poor. _I probably don't want that._ Thinking about money made Rakasvi depressed. He had so much time to accrue money but he happened to always spend it or put it away somewhere he couldn't get to as easily. Being the lazy bum that he was, he did not want to go to Falena to withdraw potch. They might still have that price on his head... _And I'lll be even poorer after this trip, _he thought with a pout.

Feeling poor gave him a dry taste in his mouth. He wanted enough money so he could pay for a decent suite and actual hot meals on a ship that didn't look like it'll sink at any moment. Sitting among the damp crates with the rats for freeloading definitely sucked the last time he tried.

_But he'll probably dismiss me as is. I am asking for a lot of time off_. Rakasvi realized that he had only worked here for a little over a quarter of a year, hardly enough time to inspire confidence. Look at Virgil, who had worked probably more than thirty years for Redrum and never took a day off. Or Derek and Lotty, both having worked without complaint since their memory began and never having left the job. Rakasvi's request was like asking a bear to juggle six chain weight balls while standing on a rocking chair and balancing a stick with a plate on top; in other words, stupidly impossible. In all his careful preparation, Rakasvi had forgotten to even ask for permission, which made him want to kick himself. Then there were his own wishes to stay here, since the pay was decent and he did live in relative comfort and anonymity. Morgan was perhaps the best pupil he had in a long while. Lady Chris was taking her sweet time to discover another True Rune right in the capital of her beloved nation. Even the hound dogs had yet to find him.

_"But you are what you are. You cannot turn a blind eye like all the others,"_ a jovially incriminating voice in his head reminded. _"Other bearers never appreciate the incredible good they could accomplish with their Rune. They fear the result if they lost control. They fear for their close friends, fear for their nations, fear for the self-destruction if the Rune turned on their owner. But that fear incapacitated them! Think of the good! The good! The good!"_ The voice chortled happily.

_"Just like that time when I annihilated eight thousand lives just so that Leknaat could have her wonderful Wind Mage?"_ Rakasvi asked the voice sarcastically. _"Who happened to betray her and destroy himself like I said he would."_

_"So? It was only eight thousand lives. What of the millions dead with Luc's little ordeal? He was only seven times younger than you with that tally mark."_

_"You are heartless," _said Rakasvi.

_"What can I say? I am you," _said the voice in a sing-song way. _"Your fear overcomes you, like all others."_

_"I am not afraid,"_ said Rakasvi tartly as if to assure himself. _"I just think those idiots should take care of themselves for once."_

_"No. You are right. You are not afraid,"_ the voice corrected himself,_ "You just hate Harmonian winter."_

Rakasvi grumbled to himself. It was one of the many reasons he never liked living in Harmonia. It was a little past mid autumn right now in Vinay, which meant full snow storms were merrily burying all of old Harmonian territory in knee-high snow. Worst of all was that it wasn't the light, fluffy, nimbus-like snow. It was still the half-melting, half-dry snow, excellent for slipping and getting comfortably dry and warm toes miserably wet and cold. That happened to be his worse pet peeve.

_"You're committed anyways, stupid. You already asked during supper,"_ the voice reminded him.

_"Oh...shucks..."_

His conscience probably wanted to torment him more with self-righteous speech, but it shut up as soon as the door opened.

The door opened with a click, and Sir Borus entered, wearing normal civilian clothes of a loose shirt and slacks. He wore soft boots and walked as silently as a cat. He looked taller without the hulking bulk of armor, and even slightly soft and weak like an accountant of a bank. However, there were two daggers tucked right on the side of his boots that did not escape Rakasvi's attention.

Respectfully, Rakasvi stood up. "My Lord," he addressed formally.

Borus nodded. He went behind the desk and sat down. "Have a seat," he said in the usual deep commanding voice.

Rakasvi smiled humbly and seated himself. He looked nervously at his Master, wondering what Borus would say.

Borus settled in the slightly dusty chair. It had been about two weeks since he came into this room. Each time when he had the chance to stay in Vinay, there would be a mountain of paperwork. Permits to sign off, ledgers to notarize. This room was first furnished with the idea that he could do most of that here, until he found it more efficient to do most of it at Brass castle. Trafficking paperwork was definitely no fun.

"When and where do you wish to go?" Borus finally asked, getting straight to the point.

"Tomorrow," answer Rakasvi clear and concisely. "Budehuc castle."

"Budehuc," repeated Borus. Budehuc was a merchant center, as well as the neutral fortress between all factions. It had been put into excellent service as the headquarters of the second Fire Bringers ten years ago, home to some of the most eccentric people Borus had ever met. However, it would be good if some of those notable people were brought here. That would certainly impress if not amuse their foreign dignitary.

"I understand that I have only been here for three months and I have no right to ask something like this," Rakasvi said, taking on a more humble voice, "and it's rushed. But please grant me this leave. I swear I will return and continue to serve you with all my heart."

"Alright."

Rakasvi blinked. "What?" There was no way that Borus could be letting him off that easily. Borus had not demanded for the specific reason, or who was to be visited. He did not even sound curious! Rakasvi thought his hearing must have finally failed after all these years.

Borus leaned back on his chair. "I have a document that I need delivered to Master Thomas, Lord of Budehuc castle as is. I will let you go if you are willing to take it to him."

"Oh." Upon hearing the catch to his release, Rakasvi relaxed.

"I will have to dock you 750 potch of pay during time of absence. If you agree, then you may return after three weeks."

Rakasvi did not believe his luck. He thought it would take more convincing. "YES of course!"

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And Rakasvi's luck did not end there.

...sort of.

Lord Borus had provided him with a new fur-lined cowled cloak and a fine chestnut horse with coal black mane from his own stables. Borus did not want his messenger to show up in Budehuc looking like a common wretch off the streets. He had no doubt that the Guild Masters had sent invitations to Master Thomas and his notable associates. Unfortunately, Thomas still had doubts about the graciousness of the Zexen council since they did continuously attempt to impose ridiculous taxes on all the lands surrounding Budehuc. All those untaxed trades among Zexen border groups made the guild masters nervous. They were convinced, even after Thomas had so amicably showed them the meager account books, that Thomas was hoarding all the profits underneath that patched-up castle of his. The council's orders to the knighthood to seize the castle had more or less been ignored since the Captain of the knights or Mighty Six always love to stupid and the parchment that contained the order to besiege the castle always mysteriously ended up in the pig slops. With that aside, Borus had predicted that any actual message from the council would not end up on Thomas's desk until months after it was sent. Since Rakasvi was going to Budehuc, he might as well carry a formal invitation.

Rakasvi shifted in his cloak, feeling rather happy that he felt particularly warm in fur and the fresh set of clothes. His pack fit snuggly close to him under the cover of the cloak. Summer here was much like winter back in the islands, cool and rainy. The fur of the coat was water proof; he would have no troubles with rain. Rakasvi thanked Borus again for such a great gift. However, the horse was another matter.

Rakasvi gazed in the horse's black pupils, troubled with what he would do with it. Rakasvi had originally thought that Borus would just let him go and take it on faith that he would return within the agreed-upon three weeks. He did not think Borus would give him a horse to speed his travels. It was a good steed too, muscles so obviously firm underneath the finely groomed coat. Its breath was hot and slightly stinky with vigor. But what was a teleporting mage going to do with a horse?

"Take this to Master Thomas," said Borus, handing over the delicately bowtied heavy envelop. It was fairly early in the day, at a time when the light from the sun should barely peak over the eastern plains. There was no sun right now, however, but ominous rolling clouds threatened a damp morning.

Rakasvi ignored the distant rumbling of thunder and accepted the paper with all the careful piety of a Liberian.

"Tell Thomas that Lady Chris has a request for him and that he is to reply within two days," commanded Borus.

Rakasvi nodded seriously. This was an official task that he must not fail or else he may lose the money and roof over his head permanently. "I will not fail you, my lord."

"You sure you do not require an escort?" asked Borus. "One of the squires would not mind accompanying you."

Rakasvi shook his head. They had the discussion last night. There were dangers outside in the wilderness, dangers that no soft lad from the cities could withstand. "I will be fine. I can protect myself." Rakasvi said, showing off the rusty and disgustingly ornate sword that Borus did not knew Rakasvi had.

"Owning a sword does not mean talent," said Borus coolly. There were many rich yuppies of Guild Master's children who tried out swordsmanship with their showy blades.

"Well, with me, you might be surprised," said Rakasvi with a smirk. He hopped on the horse with the natural ease of an equestrian. He felt the muscles of the equine fidget right beneath him. The horse snorted aggressively, wanting to burst into a charge as soon as it could. Rakasvi put a hand on the horse's neck, telling it to calm down. He might still have a usage for the animal on the return trip and did not want it to run away.

"I wish you a safe trip," said Borus, looking up at the youth on the horse. For an odd moment, Rakasvi looked different. High up on a horse, he seemed to change into a different person. A silver ring with a small red gem on his finger sparkled. The regal bearing was impossible to deny.

"My wholehearted gratitude for the gifts," said Rakasvi, breaking the illusion. "I shall return as soon as possible."

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yawn I'm sleepy since it's about 1am and I have to studyat some point for an exam that I missed this morningXX

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's no fun reading something that makes you feel ill afterwards. Like reading some of my assigned readings that gave me the feelings of "those are manyhours of my life that I will never get back..."

Suikorin


	8. Bump!

Someone7

AN: I read through this story...and suddenly felt that this is such a boring fic that I don't want to work on it anymore until Christmas or something. Oh well, I do really like this fic, but it's dragging itself out for a lot longer than I expected, like three times longer. Anyways, remember this before reading

Hero 4 Rakasvi Alexey.

There is a good reason for the name change. It's for the flow of the perspective.

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Alanis, a twenty-one year old young lady, was in a pinch. The coach of her carriage had decided to run away suddenly when those darn demon hollies decided to attack in the middle of the night. The battle was hardly fierce; she was a decent sorceress and dispatched the hollies with one quick pale gate spell. However, she was not trained to handle horses. With the coach gone, the six mares that were supposed to take her to Budehuc were lost somewhere in the plains and herself, stranded in the middle of nowhere.

She was not a terribly tall woman, slightly shorter than most her age. Her hair was down to her shoulders in wavy curls. And because she did not anticipate a monster attack, she wore a puffy dark green dress, much like a high-class girl. The rich air about her was difficult to hide, partially because she was the oldest daughter of a wealthy merchant. Though now, she did not feel so rich, even with the thousand potch in her purse.

_Shoot. I should have listened to Elliot and hired at least a body guard,_ thought Alanis, irritated and ready to cry. Irritated because of the damn demon hollies that had attacked her. Ready to cry because she had tried to look for the horses for the past three hours without success.

_And I probably should have learned husbandry when Melville offered to teach. _By the time Alanis was having second thoughts about her past, storm clouds had begun to cover the sky. Distant rumblings, a promise of a good storm even before the sun was fully up, made her even more sad and angry at herself.

Soon, the rumbling came close, and a steady and cold rain started to drizzle. Alanis, though under the cover of a tree, was starting to get wet.

"Achoo!" she sneezed after ten minutes of the rain starting. By now, the drizzle had turned into a true rain with droplets so large, it actually hurt to get hit by them. Just when a tear started to form in her eye, there was a loud 'pop!' sound only two meters away.

Out of that pop, a young man spontaneously appeared in mid air.

Apparently, the he did not expect to be popping into existence in mid air, for his legs attempted to find solid ground without avail. He fell with a painful 'thud,' knocking the cowl off his head. Worse, he landed on his butt in the middle of an incipient mud and scat puddle with a flatulent splat, dirtying his traveling coat like a pig that just rolled around in garbage. Words of the ill will toward the weather came flowing out of his mouth like the dam that just collapsed.

Despite her own situation, Alanis started to laugh.

"Hey! This isn't funny!" said the indignant young man.

Alanis laughed some more.

The youth scowled but stood up. Large clods of mud fell off. He seemed like a normal man, about the same age as her, with braided long bronze hair set down his right shoulder and a pair of pale blue eyes. He ducked his head to look under his soggy cloak.

"Oh good, it's dry," he said to himself, relieved. "I don't think Thomas would like a wet message." Then he turned to Alanis and gave her an evil look for she was still laughing at him. "Will you stop? It's not like you're in any better of a situation."

Alanis ceased her laughing, though mirth was still on her face. She was wet, but he was dirty AND wet. "Did Miss Viki miss her target?" So far, she could only think of one person who could teleport others. Unfortunately, Miss Viki would miss the designated target from time to time.

"Viki?"

"You know, the teleportress at Budehuc," said Alanis.

The young man gave her a blank stare like an idiot.

Alanis decided to ignore that. She had not seen Viki in years; she was not even sure if Viki was still at Budehuc. "Anyways, I'm Alanis. What's your name?"

"Me?" He stroked his chin and looked up thoughtfully. This turned out to be a bad decision since a large rain drop fell into his eyes, sending darting pain through his head. Yes, he was definitely a slow one. "I'm Alexander, but my friends call me Alexey." he finally answered, rubbing his stinging eyes.

"Alexey...?" repeated Alanis. That name seemed more feminine than masculine appropriate. If Alanis was told only the name, she would had expect a soft spoken servant girl. "That sounds northern," commented Alanis politely.

"I'm from Harmonia," he said cleverly, like Harmonia was the bread and butter of the world.

Alanis wanted to smack her forehead and shake in the plain stupidity of this stranger. Did he not even realize that he was still in the Grasslands? A sane person did not go around and advertise that around here. The Karayans were not totally friendly with the Harmonians even after their High Bishop Sasarai aided them in the last war. The Lizard Clan were much more warlike and would probably kill him on sight. _Still, he's wearing Zexen clothing_, thought Alanis curiously. _Maybe he is lying?_

"So...where am I?" he asked.

"You don't even know where you are?" she asked incredulously.

Alexey scowled and crossed his arms like she just asked him the most retarded question in the world. "If I know where I am, do you think I would be asking?"

"We're north of the Zexen Forest, going into the Yaza Plains."

"Oh..." he intoned, sounding like he had no idea where that was either. "So, where are you going?" he asked.

"Budehuc," she answered. "But the coach of my carriage ran away, and so did the horses..."

"Well...if you want, I can take you there," he offered. "I'm going to Budehuc too."

"Um..." she looked at him up and down for a complete minute. He did not look very dependable with that lopsided grin. He wore an overly ornate sword at his belt. And it was strange that he only wore one single black glove on his left land. "I...guess...so..."

"Great!" He held out his hand. "Let's go."

Alanis hesitated for a fraction of a moment. Why in the world was she trusting a complete stranger? He could rape her and murder her and no one would ever know. Then again, what smart bandit would be out during a storm in middle of nowhere? Alexey seemed too stupid to be a bandit. After what seemed like an eternity, she put her hand in his, thinking that she could blast him with some runic spell if he tried to hurt her.

"We will be there shortly," he said, his eyes glazing right before her.

Before Alanis could even utter a word of surprise, bright white rings circled them and the world quickly became blindingly white

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This time, Alexey did not land in a puddle. Nope, he landed in a tree.

A really tall tree at that.

Alanis was hanging on to a thick branch for dear life and hoping no one was looking up at her panties. A brief glance of the landscape showed Budehuc castle only a league away, and it rained even worse here. She looked up from the branch she was hanging on, and saw Alexey looking spiral eyed, collapsed in the nook between the trunk and branch.

_Geee, great help he has been!_ she thought. "Hey! Wake up Alexey!"

Her words were loud, and Alexey shook his head a little, trying to clear his mind. "Oh man...I'm really rusty at this."

Alanis was not in the mood for his complaints. The branch was wet and she was not sure she could hang on forever and it was a long way down. In her mind, she had a very vivid image of how her body would look like as a pile of meshed flesh on the ground. "Don't just sit there, help me up!"

"But my head hurts," complained Alexey, squinting his eyes in pain. His stomach churned in protest at his spinning head. "I feel like I'm gonna puke."

Alanis could feel the water lubricating the branch like oil, and her grip slipped ever so slightly. "I don't care! Just come over here!"

"I'm coming," he said grumpily, standing up. He swayed unsteadily on the branch like he was about to fall over.

"Hurry!" cried Alanis. In that instant, her grip failed. The branch was too thick and too wet from the rain, and her hand could not hold on any longer.

"Ahh!"

Alexey, detecting the urgency instantly reach down and caught her hand just in time to prevent a fall.

"About time!" said Alanis ungratefully. If she had only stayed in the plains, she would only be wet and not fearing for her life.

"Hey, you're not exactly light either," he retorted. Then with strength unbecoming of a scrawny young man, he hoisted her up and settled her securely on the branch.

"Did you just called me fat?" said Alanis almost accusatively after she got back her bearings.

"No I did not," he denied prudently. Women always had an issue with their weight and he tried to avoid that conversation most of the time. "I think we should concentrate on getting down from here."

"Oh yeah," intoned Alanis absently. Then it occurred to her that they just teleported, an experienced she had not had in ten years. Teleportation was an unique sorcerery mastered only by only the few powerful sorcerers. The energy it required to teleport from one place to another takes as much energy as if the person physically moved from one place to another. "Can't you just teleport us down?" asked Alanis once she was sure she wouldn't fall.

Alexey shook his head. "No."

"...But you just sent us on a trip that would normally take a person an entire day of hard riding to cover."

"Can't you tell that my aim is off?" he asked in an irritated voice. "What do you think would happen if I send us straight beneath the ground?"

"That can't happen," scoffed Alanis, though she sounded slightly unsure of herself.

Alexey narrowed his eyes. "Well, you never have had to dig yourself out before."

The two were silent for a few minutes. The dark gray sky happily poured some more water on them. Alanis wiped away a strand of wet hair, feeling slightly cold.

"How about you climb down?" Alanis suggested.

"...That would require actual effort," he said like a nobleman who was just asked to exert himself.

A giggling from below caught Alanis's attention. She looked down in surprise.

It was Jeane.

A more scantily dressed beautiful Jeane was peering suggestively up at them. There was barely enough cloth covering her generous bosom. Her midriff was scandalously bare, and the skirt she wore was so low, it almost did not cover what it should had covered. The rain made all her clothes stick to her skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Alanis could feel her cheeks flush. Jeane never dressed so immodest before.

"Glad you decided to come, my dear," said Jeane, ending with her habitual giggling.

"Aren't you going to catch a cold?" asked Alexey with an icy familiarity. He stood up with perfect balance, looking down with a haughty calm. "We aren't in the Islands, you know."

"Caring for my health? I'm deeply touched."

"In the head, that is," said Alexey, his tone lacking the lightheartedness from before. "Get us down."

There was mirth in her eyes, musing over an inside joke. "Whatever you say." Jeane held up a hand and snapped her fingers. In a split moment, Alanis felt the whitening of her vision, same as the one before. When the world came back into focus, she flopped unceremonially onto the ground, adding to the number of bumps and bruises.

"Ow..." Alanis squinted her eyes, feeling the beginning of a large blue splotch on her now muddied butt. Her head spun as if she had been twirled around about thirty times.

Alexey, however, was standing as if nothing had happened. He stood tall, without any concern for the rain. Despite the previously soiled cloak, he was completely stately like a proud diplomat. "Why are you here?" he asked of Jeane with the same chilly unfeeling voice, completely ungrateful.

"Progress," she said simply.

"Hardly Progress if all you do is watch," he criticized lightly.

"And flirt...heheh..." Quite deliberately, she leaned in and gave Alexey a kiss on the cheek.

Alexey rolled his eyes, though his cheeks did turn a faint pink. "Go back. I will require an hour of time at most and no more," he ordered.

Jeane smiled like she always did. "Schedule? That should have no meaning to you."

"I'm a changed man, if you can't tell."

Jeane narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. She looked at him up and down, from his posture to the way he stressed his facial muscles. Jeane suddenly burst out laughing. "You amaze me at times," she said before disappearing just as suddenly as she appeared.

Calmly, as if the strange exchange had never happened, Alexey walked over to Alanis and held out a hand.

"You alright?" he asked, pulling Alanis to her feet. His previous cool composure was replaced by sincere concern.

Alanis tried to pat off some of the dirt on her green skirt without much success. She would just have to change once she made it to Budehuc. "I guess I am," she muttered, mentally taking notes of her aches and sores.

"Well, now that we're down, we'll have to walk the rest of the way, if you don't mind," declared Alexey.

Alanis nodded mutely, still thinking about the strange conversation her companion had had with the mysterious rune mistress. It could be that the teleportation had altered her perception.

So the two walked on in the rain, cold and miserable. One of the Budehuc patrolling guards bumped into them and confirmed that they were indeed going the right direction. It was still a good hour of walking though.

"You know Miss Jeane?" Alanis asked when they were only within minutes of the castle.

Alexey nodded begrudgingly. "Yep. I have known Miss Jeane for what feels like...I don't know, decades!"

"Is she a..." Alanis paused, searching for a discrete word. "special lady to you?"

"As in?" he sounded like the clueless pop-in-mid-air young man he was previously.

"As in romantic interest," clarified Alanis.

"Dear Gods! No!" denied Alexey fervently. He held a hand to his heart, and looked like he almost had a heart attack. "We're only acquaintances."

"She kissed you!" said Alanis, feeling that there was more to it than Alexey was admitting. "I went to her once to get a water rune attached, and the men next to her were all like goo goo ga ga over her. And she never even bothered to give them more than a glance."

"Well..." Alexey trailed off. He looked away guiltily, like a little boy who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "It's a running joke between me and her. She tries to charm me and I try to resist her. She really can't truly charm me, but it amuses her to try."

"And that's completely natural?"

Alexey shuddered. "With how scary Jeane is, I'm not about to say otherwise."

Alanis just stared at him skeptically. "You are one weird man, Alexey of Harmonia," she said finally, strutting past him. She wanted to get to Budehuc as soon as possible and write a letter to her friends and father. Today was just too strange not to be mentioned.

Alexey sighed and shook his head, suddenly morose. "You can't even begin to comprehend just how weird I am, Lady Alanis."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though it rained on and off all day, the Redrum house was busier than ever. Men from Borus Redrum's free holdings poured in and took over virtually every single task that Lotty, Derek and Virgil had shared. Women who had done laundry for their entire life came in, shooed Lotty off to the side, and began cleaning every single coat, tunic, towel, and sheet they could get their hands on. Derek was officially dismissed by the pompous head gardener from the Norin Manor. Derek convinced him to rescind that command with his thick fist.

When Morgan woke up sometime in the late morning, she immediately felt something was amiss. There was too much racket from the hall beyond her door. Flowers and new curtains were placed. The most glaring sign of something having been changed was the new servant whom she never met before in her room, preparing to serve her breakfast in bed.

"Your breakfast, mi'lady," greeted this motherly woman.

Morgan watched the milk, foreign-looking eggs, and a large plate of cake placed onto her lap. "What is this?" the girl pointed to the icing-covered cake. In all her memory, she had never been served cake for breakfast, much less served food in bed at all.

"Regards from the cook," said the lady, smiling, showing her crooked teeth.

"Oh...Where is Ra?"

"Ra who?"

"Rakasvi, my tutor."

"I do not know of a Rakasvi."

Without even considering how she was barely dressed, she rushed out of her room, looking for her beloved tutor. She knew he wanted some type of vacation, she just never anticipated that he would leave so soon without saying goodbye.

So many other newer servants fawned extensively over her as she made her way through the mansion. They tried to win her over with offering of sweets, though Morgan refused them all. All she wanted was to find the usual four people who she knew the best. The first she found was Lotty.

"Lotty!" cried Morgan urgently. "Where's Ra? And Papa and Virgil and Derek? I don't see them. I can't find them!"

"Morgan!" exclaimed Lotty. She kneeled down to the little girl's height just like Ra usually did when he wanted to talk to the little girl. "Ra went away to Budehuc this morning."

"He went away? Why didn't he tell me?" Morgan was hurt that Ra never even said goodbye.

"He did not tell me either." Lotty sighed. She was disappointed and angry too when she woke up. Was she not important enough to even be told of a departure? The biscuit and tea this morning was just not as fluffy and delicious as the buns Rakasvi usually prepared for breakfast. "It's alright though. He will be back in three week," she said. "Lord Redrum said so."

"Wait...Papa is still here?" said Morgan, suddenly excited.

"Yes. Your father is still here. Oh, he wants me to take you to the tailors to get fitted for your new dresses."

And so, Lotty introduced Morgan to three high-and-mighty-looking lady tailors.

The three tailors were weird. One was really tall and the other two were really short. Either way, they had the girl strip down to her panties in order to take measurements. Morgan was embarrassed about that but took it as well as a dignified lady. The tailors quickly fashioned a pretty dress of a soft sky blue color with silver trim.

Morgan smiled once she checked the dress she wore. The dress did make her look pretty but she would never admit it. A knight did not wear a dress unless they were in disguise. And since the tailors fashioned her clothes so quickly, Morgan had time to go wander around the garden.

The garden was more beautiful than ever, though rain was still coming down. Mr. Derek had always done a good job, and it became even better with five more helpers planting fresh new flowers. Morgan fondly pranced in the place, thinking about the many lessons Ra had given to her outside. During those times, Morgan talked and talked about herself until her jaw became sore. Morgan was just about to go back inside to find her father when a stranger got her attention.

"Hey girl," called someone else in the place.

Morgan stopped twirling and saw another boy about her age about five paces from her. He had pitch black tousled hair cropped rather short, wearing plain slacks and a simple brown shirt. His doublet was slightly fancier, but nothing compared to Morgan's pretty dress.

"Who are you?" asked Morgan, her violet eyes bore into the gray orbs of the other. She did not like his tone too much.

"My name isn't important. Where's the outhouse of this place?" he demanded shortly.

"We don't have outhouses," corrected Morgan. "We have bathrooms."

"Then show me where the bathroom is," he said, raising his voice a little.

Morgan crossed her arms "No," she said seriously.

"What?" he sounded miffed. "I am a guest. Now show me where the bathroom is."

"You have to say please," corrected Morgan, remembering all her etiquette lessons. When requesting a favor from a stranger, one must always say 'please.' That was the most fundemental rule of all her lessons.

"No I don't," the boy said. "Quick! I have to go pee!"

"Then go pee in a bush," she said, starting to walk away.

He reached over, grabbing a hold of her wrist. "You are going to show me where the potty is or else!"

"No!" Morgan batted at his hand and when that did not work, she tried to kick him in the private spot.

"Ha! Missed!" he laughed at her. "My little sister does that to me all the time. You can't hit me there even if you tried."

Morgan narrowed her eyes, infuriated that he dared to laugh at her. So she tried one of the detaching moves that Ra taught her. She did a circle movement with her wrist so quickly that the boy could not react. In his moment of confusion, she struck at him with the butt of her hand at his lips.

The boy's head whipped back and he fell to the ground. "You hit me!" he accused. He touched his lips, feeling the sting upon them.

"That'll teach you not to laugh at me you stupid boy," said Morgan vehemently.

"Why you brat!" he yelled before tackling her down.

By that time, several passing hired freehands had stopped to gawk at the wrangling children. The two wrestled, neither daring to relax their hold on each other. They muddied their clothes, shouted some more childish insults. The servants, knowing who the two children were, never tried to pull the two apart. All they could do was stare.

Lotty, who happened to pass by, was the first to hurry away to find Lord Borus.

"Smelly peasant!" screamed Morgan.

"Spoiled imp!" screamed the boy.

The two managed to insult each other some more. They eventually grabbed hold of each other's shoulders and managed to roll off quite a ways down from their original spot, ending up near the sandy beaches. Dirty and random split-off vegetation clung to their clothes, and the two looked very much like they had been through a natual disaster.

"That's enough! Morgan Anna Redrum!" shouted Borus, a fury storm brewing over his head.

"Percival Joseph Fraulein Junior! Get off of her!" shouted another man.

The two did not stop. They kept on wrestling each other until the two adults finally pulled them off each other. There was dirt smudged on Morgan's face and her arms were slightly scuffed up. The other boy had a few scratches here and there from Morgan's sharp nails.

Morgan, though held in place by her father, was still trying to get at the other boy. She squirmed under her father's firm grip, wanting nothing more than to tackle the other boy.

"Morgan!" said Borus sternly, holding her firmly by her shoulders. "Stand still!"

At her father's command, she stopped wiggling. When Papa got angry, he would look and sound like he would give the object of his anger the beating of a life time. And though it had been a very long time since Papa had hit her, she still feared him for his powerful anger.

"I'm sorry Percival," apologized Borus to the unknown man. "I am sure that it was a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" cried the boy. "She split my lips!"

"He hit me first!" cried Morgan, defending herself. "He..."

"Quiet Morgan!" barked Borus. "Speak one more word and you will be paddled!"

Morgan clenched her fists but said nothing else. Her father's words were final, which she understood very well. Even Ra would not go against her father's words. Instead, she observed the other two.

The older man was as tall as her father, wearing the familiar Zexen armor. His hair was combed back and styled. He was looking down at the boy with cold eyes. "PJ. What have I told you about fighting with girls?"

It was near universal rule that boys do not fight girls, even if the girl threw the first punch. However, PJ had recently joined the Squires, where there were other girls who were also there, training to be knights. Those girls are alright to fight since it was a general consensus that the knighthood do not differentiate between the gender; everyone was to become the best knight they could be. However, the only daughter of the Redrums was off limits, something that PJ had not learned yet.

"Pa, she's different!" PJ explained. "She's not a girl! She's an evil slime from the deepest, darkest..."

"You better not finish that sentence," said Percival, already knowing what illogical reasoning the boy would give. "Or I will have you scooping horse manure with a tea spoon again."

PJ had the look of plain disgust on his face. He did shut up though.

"Sorry about this, Percival," said Borus again. "I never expected her to react this way."

"It's alright," said Percival, "It's about time we get these two together. PJ. Introduce yourself."

"No!" PJ objected. "There's no way I'm going to talk to that a girl like that! She has cooties!"

Morgan's eyes went large at the insult. Only her dignity kept her from exploding in rage. Her face, however, reflected exactly how she felt about the boy's comment--murderous.

Percival laughed nervously and nodded apologetically at Borus.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. This...PJ kid was definitely getting on her nerves. She would show him how a civilized human acted. "Oh fine, I'll go first," she grumbled, taking a deep breath. First, she patted off as much dirt as she could, making herself at least somewhat presentable. Then she stepped forward daintily and curtsied with as much grace as a ten year old could. "My name is Morgan Anna Redrum. It is a great honor to meet the great Swordsmen of Gale and his fine son," she greeted flawlessly. Those lady lessons and practice sessions with Ra really paid off.

"My my. Such a proper child," mused Percival stroking his chin with one iron-gloved hand.

"You flatter me with kind words, Sir Fraulein," said Morgan in response.

"Definitely your daughter," said Percival.

"Yes she is," muttered Borus, pleasantly surprised at her maturity. "Morgan. I want you to show PJ around."

Morgan's violet eyes widened slightly like someone had just asked her to befriend a demon holly. PJ evidently had the same feeling and both children went off, giving their own reasons why the other was the bane of the world's existence.

"Do as I say," said Borus sternly. "He is a guest."

Begrudgingly, Morgan nodded in obedience. She may not like it, but what her father said, she must do. Oh how she wished Ra was here right now. He would definitely turn the situation into something fun and not as insulting.

"Come along, Percival Joseph," said Morgan with cold courtesy. "The day awaits."

PJ stared at the girl suspiciously. Her sudden change in mannerism creeped him out. One moment she was all belligerent and the next, she was pure calm. However, a look from his father suggested hours in the reeking wonders of manure. He swore once he was out of his pesky father's eyes, he would get her back for splitting his lips...somehow.

So quietly, with all the animosity so clear on their faces, the two children stalked off.

"Think we should tell them we plan to have them betrothed?" said Percival once the two munchkins were out of sight.

"Probably later," said Borus, turning on his heel to go back inside to get out of the rain. "When they aren't on the verge of kill each other."

"Good idea," Percival agreed. "So, tell me about this amazing Harmonian tutor you have."

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Author's Note: Um...still kinda slow, i know! Nothing much has been happening...Oh well...Stuff will happen, somewhere. I swear!

And Percival. I just realized that in the real world, he was a knight of King Arthur's round table and had the rare blessing of seeing the holy grail. That is definitely interesting

Nips: I tried to email you, but it's always returned...

Suikorin


	9. Teleportation

1/6/06

Chapter8: Teleportation

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Chris?" called Salome as he stepped into the their home library. "Am I intruding?"

Chris looked up from her thick history book. She was sitting on a heavily cushioned red single-seat sofa, wearing her plain beige nightgown. Her hair was down, delicately shrouding her in a veil of silver. To her right was a small end table holding a stack of history books. To her left was a fire, providing much needed soft light in the night.

"No. You are not intruding," said Chris, smiling. She placed the book on her lap. "Come sit next to me."

Salome, a veteran knight complied. He paced over, still in his working garb of formal tunic, service trousers and boots. There were fine lines on his face, evidence of older age. Before sitting down on the other sofa, he went to Chris and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

Chris turned a rosy color and looked down. Lady Chris, the captain of the knights, was still embarrassed when shown direct displays of affection, even from her husband.

"You came home early," commented Salome when he first sat down. "I take it that the day with Miss Nina went well."

Chris nodded, though she looked thoughtful. "Yes. Miss Nina was very easy to please. She did not need a carriage, complimented the chow hall cook and even tested one of my knights." Chris snorted and shook her head as she recalled some of the foreign duel tactics. "Nina isn't the best, but she is good. Not entirely what I expected of a young queen such as herself."

"Oh," Salome intoned, equally thoughtful. "I've spoken to one of her subordinates. He said that in Obel, royalty are required military service if they wish to be in line for the throne."

That piqued Chris's curiosity. "How did that happen?"

"Some King of theirs over a century back dictated it as a law."

Chris laughed. "Now that's an idea. Can you imagine Marcus flailing around with a sword?"

"Can you imagine any of them wielding a real sword?" commented Salome with an ironic smile. The Council had always been corrupt to a degree, most of them elected by purchasing votes. Many of them wanted to reduce the funding to the knighthood and increase funding to the craftsmen. Salome supposed that the tactics were wise in terms of peace as war was always bad for business.

"So, what are you reading?" asked Salome, turning away from the subject.

Chris looked down to her book. It was one of the older volumes that were collecting dust in her library. From the looks of the brittle pages and handwritten letters, it was likely that the book was written long before the establishment of the Zexen Federation.

"This is a book about the First Fire Bringers when they first came to be," said Chris, pointing to the strangely lifelike illustration pasted onto the book. "They had five captains. Here's my father and Geddoe," she pointed to somewhat younger looking men whom they later knew to be Jimba and Captain of the Twelfth Unit.

"Here is the Flame Champion. The first Fire Bringer," she whispered, tracing the picture. This man looked younger than the other two. He looked to be no more than twenty, with a naive smile and full of hope for future. He had a face that everyone could like to at first glance.

"That's Zepon," said Salome, noticing the hulking overshadowing lizardman with an elaborate griffin feather headdress in the very back. His arms were crossed. Snake like features and reptilian eyes give a distinct threatening feeling.

"And this is the one I'm looking for," said Chris. "Julian the White." That was another young man who was about the Flame Champion's age. He had platinum hair and pale blue eyes. His expression was much like an overly clever child waiting to cause his next mischief. Like the Flame Champion, he had the disarming face and smile. One would think he was a nobleman's soft son.

Salome frowned upon scrutinizing the photo. He could have sworn that he had seen that face before. "Why are you looking for Julian?"

"I've been having day dreams," admitted Chris. "I think my father is trying to tell me something. I am not sure what it is."

"Hum...This is interesting," said Salome. "Listen to this...'_Julian the White, an adept Flow Rune Mage was one of the very first leaders of the Fire Bringers. Serving as the Captain of the fifth unit, he devised ingenious strategies that gained many pivotal victories against Harmonian forces for the Fire Bringers...' _now further down_. 'However, in 416 he defected to Harmonia and slaughtered over two hundred loyal Fire Bringers in one night with an unknown type of runic magic. He fled to Crystal Valley with two trusted subordinates. He further aided Harmonia in the capture and torture of five thousand Grasslanders in 417. Fearing for the lives of his beloved countrymen, The Flame Champion traded himself in exchange for the prisoners..."_ Salome trailed off.

"_The future of our struggle for freedom is uncertain,"_ read Chris, finishing off one of the last lines. They both stared at the illustration for a good ten seconds before Chris spoke again. "I am sure this is the one I have been dreaming about."

"Hum... This illustration says Solis 407. If he's alive now, he had to be about ninety at least," mumbled Salome.

"I suppose," said Chris, closing the book and putting it aside. Her experiences in life had taught her that appearances could be most deceiving. People like Sasarai and Geddoe had faces and demeanors that aptly concealed their true age. Perhaps this Julian person was somewhere in their midst, ready to kill again. If so, she should be extra careful. One of the first strange warnings from her Rune was not to be dismissed as some trivial matter. "I will think about this some other time. We should go to bed. Tomorrow is another session with Nina. She wishes to visit some of the Grassland tribes before going to Budehuc castle." She stood up.

"Chris," called Salome. "Wait."

"Yes?" Chris stopped, looking at Salome.

There was a strange look in Salome's eyes as they settled upon his wife's flawless face and down to her very flat abdomen. "Percival just informed me that Borus has agreed to an arranged marriage of their children."

Chris stood there for a moment. An indescrible look overcame her face. "Morgan and who?"

Salome was still studying his wife's expression. "Percival's oldest, the one he had with Kathy only three months after the Second Fire Bringer war. He plans to have his son join the Service Academy in a year."

"I see," said Chris, looking down, seeming slightly forlorn.

"So, Chris. When are you going to give me a son?"

There, Salome popped the question. He never truly had the courage to ask that question. Chris may be his wife, but she was also his captain and a bearer of a True Rune. He understood that she might avoid certain decisiongs for the sake of the greater good. However, they had been together for ten years, without any children. It felt strange as his fellow knights all around him spoke of their newborns with incredible awe. He wondered when, and if it were possible, to share the same feelings. There were terrible rumors of how she could be barren and Salome shared the same fears. What if Chris was barren? He would never mention that opinion to her; the words would dry up in his mouth.

"I..." Chris went completely red and turned away. She was obviously uncomfortable with the question.

His heart skipped a few beats but he kept his steady gaze on Chris. He loved her and he would love it more if she could just give him children. As petty as it may seem, Salome would desire the Harras name to continue.

Surprisingly, Chris turned back and gave him one of her gentlest smiles. Chris was still one of the most beautiful women Salome had laid his eyes upon. He felt lucky to be the man to have her and still did. There was obvious envy among the knighthood even now.

"Come," said Chris, grabbing hold of Salome's hands. She then wordlessly led him out of the study and into their private bedroom...

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Alexey scratched his head, looking at the different face in the mirror. He personally preferred green eyes, but his naturally pale blue eyes were not unlikable either. His usually dark blonde hair was now a platinum yellow. Stretch a few facial muscles here and there, allow his eyes to narrow slightly and he was completely a different person.

_"I am Alexander for the next three weeks,_" he reminded himself, eyeing the pair of scissors and a severed long thick tress on the counter. He picked up the severed tress with a left hand and held it over the sink. _"I have the power vested in me by old man Hikusaak to act in benefit of Holy Harmonia at all cost,"_ he thought as the rope of hair disinergrated into a small mound of dust.

He scratched his head harder. His scalp still burned from the bleach as he used a little bit too much. He stopped suddenly once he realized what he was doing, his finger slightly pink from digging too deep. Scowling, he grabbed a comb and carefully parted his now painfully short hair.

"There goes four years of hard work," he mumbled. Once hair grew past the shoulders, caring for it became an exponential effort. Since he really did not have anything to do the last four years, he had made his hair a hobby. "Oh well. It'll just grow back."

Then he went back to put on the very last touches. He pulled on the newly acquired uniform. It was one of those long blue coats that cut off at the waist in the front but extended down the back to the ankle. The silver crest of Harmonia was elegantly embroidered on the chest. There were ridiculous numbers of pins and buttons to fasten. Decorative leather cord hung loosely from shoulder to shoulder. The seams between the different colors of fabric were tight and nearly invisible. Black and silver threads lined each end.

Alexey shook his head once everything was in place. He definitely looked the part. Everything was form fitting, down to the white breeches and black boots. No one could ever mistake him for some street brat at the very least. However, he did not like the stiff black cuffs at the neck and wrist. The tight square fitting on the shoulders were a complete hindrance if he needed to raise his hand. The breeches felt like they were made for a eunuch. The black gloves were thin; so much so that he might as well wear nothing if he wanted protection. The tailors of the uniform suite were definitely aiming for appearance rather than utility.

"I guess I should be glad," he said to himself. "Leonard isn't too far off in size..."

He thought back to the meeting with Thomas. After parting with Alanis, Alexey went straight to the master study. Alexey remembered how he noted with little surprise the ordinary and mollifying quality of the young man. The Tenkai Star usually picked people who were none too earth shattering. He or she was suppose to be the source of all inspiration and desire to fight for an ideal. Typically, the Tenkai Star was under eighteen, usually made a better follower than a leader, and presented all the ideals of their fellow men. Above all, they looked like what anyone would expect of a normal child who was pressed into hardship and had overcome the difficulty.

Alexey knew this, because he was once a Tenkai star.

And like a Tenkai star, Thomas was very polite and sincere, someone that no one could really hate. He accepted the letter from Borus without question and respected Alexey's request of reading the letter later in private. Thomas gave the keys to unlocking the storage room on the bottom floor without question, saying that Leonard had already written about a brother of his coming for some of his personal items. Alexey found himself wondering if Thomas ever understood the great role he played in the Second Fire Bringer War. If fate was on track, Thomas probably did not have a single clue.

Back in the powder room, Alexey took a deep breath and held a hand over his heart. Thoughts, worries, filled his mind and made his heart pound. He had lost six hours already, wasting a few helping Alanis send a message to her father. The next step was to enter Harmonian soil and fine comb through each major city and village for anything that caught his attention. Alexey was not sure what it would be yet, but he was certain that he would know once he saw it.

There were some loud knocks at the door. "Alexey" sang a voice too low and sweet for words. "Are you constipated or something hon Hehe. There is a line waiting for the bathroom "

Growling, Alexey grabbed his pack and yanked the door open. There, leaning against the doorframe and smiling like nothing wrong had happened was the Rune Mistress and a row of people squirming uncomfortably.

Jeane was in a revealing top and tight black pant skirt. Her arms were crossed and held in the nook of her neck was a long elegant white staff. Her velvety clothes gave her an even slender look. The way the crisscrossing straps were tight against her skin accentuated her more womanly features.

"Your hour has been long gone, my dear," she said, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He looked different. Not too far off as she could still see him as that tutor in Vinay but enough that strangers would not put the two together. "Have you prepared?"

Alexey stepped aside, allowing a man who swore that his bladder would burst to fly into the bathroom. "Do not ask questions to which you already know the answers," said Alexey sternly. He started walking, and Jeane followed.

The two emerged from the back of the tavern. Alexey stopped by the bar and asked Joanne, the current bar owner since Anne left, for a pack of pepper. After that, he continued to the main halls of Budehuc Manor, ignoring the curious glances from random onlookers. Most of the onlookers were regular residents of Budehuc, all of which found it strange to see Jeane outside of her Rune shop. Some onlookers were eyeing Alexey with obvious envy. They had lost the race to win Mistress Jeane's heart by a mere boy who was barely out of puberty.

Alexey ignored them. He was only here to pick up some documents and weapons he would need in his time in Harmonia. He did not want to unconvince people of his death, nor did he want any disagreements.

"Why are you coming?" asked Alexey once they were half way inside Budehuc. "You refused to enter Harmonia. I had planned this as a solo trip."

"I refuse to enter Crystal Valley, not Harmonia," corrected Jeane. "Besides, I need a change of scenery. I have been here for the last ten years."

"The Rune Bloodhounds might come and bear you away."

"Hehehe. Hikusaak rarely devotes time to dead ends. You know that very well."

Alexey nodded. "I suppose so." He stopped, having arrived at the mirror that was said to belong to Viki. "Now where is that girl..."?

Jeane tilted her head. "Why can't you just teleport directly to Harmonia?"

"Some of the higher priests will sense me," said Alexey doing cursory checks of the area around the mirror.

"How is that? You are one of the best."

Alexey craned his neck left and right, looking for the teleportress. "Hikusaak's presence seals Crystal Valley from me. I trained some of the current bishops. They will know. I am also out of practice." Then he yelled to the air in front of him. "Viki!"

Just as he said those words, there was a very loud sneeze sound followed by a pop in the air above him. Viki appeared and fell right into Alexey's quick arms.

"Oh!" breathed Viki. "Where am I?" She blinked twice before realizing that someone was holding her. Viki took a good look at him before throwing her arms around the young man happily and squeezed "You are...Lazzy!"

Jeane crackled dominatrix style at the nickname. A vein popped on Alexely's temples. The curious onlookers became confused.

"Yes. I am," said Alexey calmly with gritting teeth. Viki's spur-of-the-moment pet name caught him off by surprise, unpleasant surprise.

"Oh my! I haven't seen you in like, forever!" she said in that overly bubbly voice of hers. She clutched his neck even tighter. "You look different, but I like it. I also liked Julian too. Did you ever rescue the Wind Child from the Crystal Tower? Did cha? Wanna go for a swim? Are we even near a lake? Hum...Have I been here before?"

Alexey nodded with difficulty, not sure which question he was answering. His face was turning slightly pink by now. Viki was squeezing very hard and he was seeing spots.

Viki seemed to ignore this. "Mermaids are pretty no? Have you seen any of them recently? I like the Red Bean Buns that Pam makes. Did you ever learn how to make them? Why is your face turning purple?"

"Because you are choking him," noted Jeane.

"Jeane!" cried Viki excitedly. She immediately loosened her grip on Alexey's neck and hopped off his arms. She gave Jeane the same death-strangle hug and almost skewered the nearby Alexey with her staff in the process.

"Wow! You look different too," commented Viki. She looked at Jeane curiously. She let go of the Rune Mistress and stepped back a couple of feet. "Hey...why are you wearing more clothes? And why is it colder here?" Viki shivered slightly.

"We are much further north," explained Alexey. "I need three favors from you, Viki. Can you do it?"

"Oh. Sure. Anything for Mister Lazzy."

"One. You call me Alex."

Viki nodded vigorous. "I can do that. Alex. Got it."

"Two. You send me and Jeane to Caleria."

Viki nodded again. "I can do that too." Then she blinked. "Where is Caleria?"

Jeane touched Viki's temples for three seconds.

"Okay!" Viki smiled widely. "Gottcha."

"Three," said Alexey. "You leave afterward and never mention this to anyone. You have been here before but you don't know this place as it stands, yet."

"Huh?" The sentences were too long, confusing the poor teleportress.

"Just send us," said Jeane. "Do you have the blinking mirror too?"

"Oh yes!" Viki reached in the folds of her sleeves and plucked out a diamond shaped mirror smaller than a fingernail. The mirror has a small hole in a corner and was linked to a silver chain. "I made it travel size," cooed Viki proudly as she handed it over to Alexey.

"Thank you very much, Viki," said Alexey with a bow. He quickly fastened the chain around his neck and hid the small mirror underneath the neck high collars. The piece of glass was cool against his skin. "Now close your eyes and think of Caleria really hard."

"Um... Okay!" agreed Viki happily. She closed her eyes. The image of Caleria's bazaar center came to mind. The stuffy smell of dirt kicked up during hot summer days filled her mind with nostalgia. The tavern, full of dark skinned Calerians were in her mind's eyes. She had never been there before, but Jeane had. As long as Viki had an image, she could send people there.

Alexey produced a feather from a hidden pocket and a pepper packet from before. He ripped open the pepper packet and shook its contents onto the feather. Jeane wisely put a hand on Alexey's shoulders, nodding her readiness. Standing at an arm's length, Alexey took one deep breath and took the feather to Viki's nose. His hand twitched almost imperceptibly.

There was a massive sneeze and the foundations of the Budehuc manor shook.

Half of the curious onlookers found themselves neck deep in the chilly waters of the lake. The other half found themselves outside in the fields out in middle of nowhere. Some of the inhabitants that were below ground found themselves in the trees, namely Ruto. Cecile, who was in her room combing her hair at the time, popped on the roof. Nadir, master of theater, fell into scolding hot waters of the bath. Thomas was reading Borus's invitation when he suddenly found himself inside the doghouse, the ink on the invitation half bled off in the water bowl.

Everyone who was inside the manor was teleported out into the cold and harsh rain. No one was there to witness the disappearance of Viki, Jeane and Alexey. In the spot where they once stood were blackened marks. Where Viki used to be was replaced by a child, one who looked like Viki but with a much more solemn face.

"Oh...Damn," muttered the child Viki once she realized where she was. "So he DID mess it up for me." Then she too teleported with a simple wave of her staff.

-------------------------------------------------------

The fourteenth unit of the Harmonian Southern Frontier Defense Force was having a quiet dinner in the most popular tavern in the small town of Caleria. Near them were many other tanned and shrouded Calerians at the bars and tables, talking and gossiping like usual. Some traders of Le Buque were relaxing by the bar, exchanging the numbers of their mentor larvas, which were cocooning themselves in preparation for winter. Some Harmonian traders, including a five-member family consisting of father and four children, were at one table, waiting for their dinner. Rowdy and somewhat shadier people of Caleria seated the last table. These were the common drunks and small time thieves, but they were of little trouble as they had paid for tonight's meal.

The Fourteenth Unit had been at the tavern for a while, having returned from a recent escort mission. Nicolai, the big southern muscle man had already filed the reports for their unit. Elaine, the buxom mercenary woman, had treated herself to a nice bath at a spring not too far off. Gau, the canine kablod, completed the purchase list for their next possible mission or vacation. Duke's mind was blank for now, seeing that there were no favorable commissions for his team. As much as he wanted to best Geddoe as a mercenary, he was not about to foolishly endanger his life for it.

"There seems to be a lot of talk about Bishop Sasarai," commented Elaine between sipping on her ale and eating veal. She had been listening to the gossiping wives and verbose shopkeepers. "Rumor has it that he has taken ill."

"He does look very delicate," said Gau gruffly, taking a large gulp of his ale. "I won't be surprised to see that runt getting sick yearly."

"For half a year? Now isn't that just a little strange?" said Elaine. "What do you think, Nicolai?"

Nicolai grunted but said nothing to clarify what he thought of the situation. He was actually engrossed in his half finished beef jerky and loaf of dark rye bread.

"Well, I personally don't care if he is sick or healthy. It's all the same to me," said Duke, leaning back on his chair.

"Don't say that Duke," reprimanded Elaine. "Sasarai is a likable young man." She paused. "How old is he?"

"He looked to be twenty at most during the Second Fire Bringer," mused Nicolai with a full mouth. "So maybe he's thirty?"

"Can't be," said Duke. "I remember reading that he was in the Highlands as a general. If he was only twenty during the war, then he was only a baby during Highlands."

"Hey, look, it's one of the twelfth unit, Jacque," growled Gau.

Jacque, now thirty-one, was even more serious and solemn looking. His blonde hair was pushed out of his face by the white headband. He stood up straight with a large crossbow slung snuggly against his back. His fashion of long blue coat and kneehigh boots never changed from the day he joined the Twelfth Unit of the Harmonian Southern Frontier Defense Force.

The members of the Twelfth Unit just stared at Jacque as he passed by. The giant cross bow wielder was the most silent of the Twelfth Unit. Getting him to talk was much more difficult than pulling teeth. The Fourteenth Unit had learned not to waste their breath on Jacque. And as expected, Jacque did not stop to greet them or show any sign of noticing them.

Duke watched Jacque went to the bar to put in some orders in with his arms closed. He spoke too quietly for anyone to hear but Duke assumed that Geddoe was somewhere nearby. Jacque was usually the scouter for the Twelfth Unit. It would be likely that the rest of the Fourteenth unit's six members were not far behind. Duke rubbed his hands together, thinking of some clever retorts for Geddoe. Their professional rivalry was something of a game to Duke. Before, Duke hated Geddoe since Geddoe's unit was the best frontier unit around, with Duke as second. Duke had made it a goal to be the number one unit around. However, during the time they were required to cooperate with each other in the Second Fire Bringer, Duke had found Geddoe a disturbingly likable old man. There were qualities about Geddoe that Duke admired.

Suddenly a loud **bang** came out of nowhere.

Clear glass shattered. Some of the stools splintered. Duke's teeth chattered. Gau fell off his chair, accidentally biting his tongue, and Nicolai choked on ale.

And right in middle of the table where the shadier people were sitting stood two people. A young man and a woman.

Their sudden appearance had attracted the attention of everyone in the tavern. The silence was immediate as they stared at one stunningly beautiful woman and a comely young man.

"Jeane?" whispered all members of the Fourteenth unit simultaneously. They looked at each other for any explanation of how and why the Budehuc Rune Mistress was here in the flesh.

"Hehe. A little loud," remarked Jeane, stepping on a plate of pork with a juicy squish. "What do you think Alexey? Up to your expectations?"

One of the men at the table growled and unsheathed a pocketknife from under his sleeves. He was too drunk to comprehend the strangeness of the situation. Before he could do or say anything threatening though, Alexey kicked the knife out of the man's hand. The knife flew up into the air and fell blade down, imbedding itself in another table, Duke's table.

Alexey continued to answer Jeane's question without any recoil or noticing of the staring patrons. "It serves its purpose, I can't complain," He gracefully descended from the table, ignoring the death glares from the men at the table. Unlike Jeane, he avoided stepping on any food. He held out a hand, motioning for Jeane to come down.

"Hey pal!" growled one of the rowdier patrons at the table the pair had appeared on. This particular patron reeked of beer and trash. Like the previous pocket knife wielder, he was not sober to see the dangerous flashing of the two newcomers' eyes. " Aren't you going to pay for that?" He pointed to a trampled meal and spilled ale.

"No," said Alexey evenly as he helped Jeane down from the table. "You were done anyways."

"I...say...that you fork over twenty potch for the... meal," he slurred.

At this, Jeane acted. She turned to the rowdy patron and batted her flirty eyes. "Come on, handsome," she purred. "It's just twenty potch. Surely you can spare twenty potch, ne?"

"Of course I can..." said the man, visibly drooling just staring at her bulging melons. He attempted to grope her. "If you spend a night with me..."

Alexey snorted in disgust. He walked toward the door, very much intent on wading out of the tavern as soon as possible.

"Hey!" called the fully shrouded Calerian waitress. "Aren't you going to help your woman?"

"Hehe. Honey, I don't need help," said Jeane with the same exact purr. She grabbed hold of the drunkard's hand on his next offensive groping. Her gloved hand glowed and crackled with menacing blue electricity for a split second before the man started to convulse as electricity passed through his body. He was sizzling when he fell back to the table, his face smacking into the trampled pork and ale.

"Are you done?" asked Alexey from the doorway impassively, holding the door open.

"Tehehee. Impatient, aren't we?" asked Jeane.

"Unlike us, he cannot wait," said Alexey.

Jeane, still smiling and oblivious to all the slightly terrified looks, quickly spanned the distance between herself and Alexey. They both exited the tavern without any further exchange of words.

"Well that was strange," commented Elaine, going back to nursing her ale. Sure, the little display was out of the ordinary, but when one had stayed at Budehuc castle with its mix of radical residents of Fire Bringers, things like people popping out of nowhere did not seem so momentous. She did notice that everyone who was obviously Harmonian was making circle signs in front of them. Some of them shook slightly. Some cried.

"Hey, what's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost," said Elaine to the mother of the family in the table near them.

"That...that's...Bishop Alexander..." said the woman, making another circle sign in front of her with her trembling hands. "He's come back from the dead..."

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AN: For some reason Salome seemed like a logical choice for Chris. He feels like the type who can truly take good care of her and keep in mind that duty comes before personal wishes. I do like Borus and Chris together, they seem so cute together. But if marriage is suppose to be a logical decision, then Borus is one of the worser choices. (even though he is rich.) Chris should be the type of person who is likely to follow her head instead of her heart.

Also, since I have finished Tatics, I have decided that Hero 4 is one of the cutest kids ever! He also had the voice that just overflows with the message of "Please don't hit me. I'm too cute to hurt."

Great news for me! After looking for about a year, I finally got my greed little hands on Suikoden 1 and 2! I was shocked to open mouth silence when I saw it at the local Rhino store.The dent the two discs put into my wallet is very deep and I will have to starve for the next two months.

But I don't care.

Um...sugesstions for future plots are welcome...please?

Suikorin


	10. An Unexpected Engagement

Chapter 9: An Unexpected Engagement

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When Bishop Mitchel was informed that a traveler wanted an audience, he scoffed. He ordered the secretary to tell the traveler that "Bishop Mitchel is indisposed at the moment." He simply did not feel like meeting a stranger today. He had spent all yesterday inspecting the Frontier Troops and meeting all the mercenary captains. He had never seen such a collection of useless men and to having to be polite to them drained him of all energy. He felt that he deserved the day off for enduring such an arduous task.

As the secretary left on her order, the long time officers came in, many of who were instructors and seasoned soldiers. They politely requested their recently appointed general to meet with this traveler.

"He is most unusual!" said an aged captain. "Please your Worship, we wish that you see to this guest."

"What for?" asked Mitchel, holding his nose up high, tossing his rich chocolate hair. He looked to be in his late thirties, or perhaps forties. In actuality, he was about fifty years old. In all his special studies as a bishop, he had found the ancient secrets of agerasia. The spell was not as perfect as the blessings endowed by a True Rune for he still aged since he had become a bishop at twenty-five. However, he was not about to embed himself with a True Rune. Only the idiots and the chosen ever had that displeasure.

"He tested our men," said the captain with an awestruck expression. "I have never seen such speed, such swordplay! And he asked for you. He says he's a messenger from the south."

Mitchel yawned. There was always a messenger. He decided that he might as well answer it. It would be proper for foreign diplomats to recognize him as the proverbial iron hand of Harmonia. "Is it urgent?"

"Err...he did not sound urgent. But please. See to him!"

"Alright," said Mitchel, waving a hand embedded with a pale gate rune. The pleasure women he had had last night kept him up until the wee light of dawn. It was like a long magical night had been happening since he had come to Caleria. Who knew the wenches of Caleria could be so talented?

"Have him come in after tea time," said Mitchel, sitting down on a lavish leather chair. "By the way, what is his name?"

"Um..." the captain looked caught off guard by the name."Well, we don't know, but his female companion calls him Alexey."

Mitchel visibly flinched though he recovered quickly. "I see. Actually, have him come in after lunch. Now leave me."

"Of course." The captain bowed deeply, grateful.

Back in his office alone, Mitchel's haughty expression fell and he slumped in his chair. The name Alex and its variations were common given names taken by all classes of Harmonian males. However, that name was also taken by one of the most secretive and calculating bishops he had ever known.

"_Alexey_!" he whispered in a fearful but also hateful voice. He had not heard that exact name in years and when he had the mishap of hearing the name, it was always from the lips of the Sacred Child. He remembered the overwhelming relief he felt and the quiet tears of the masses when the state funeral was held for their dearly departed Bishop Alexander. The dubbed "Healer Bishop" was a fearsome adversary as a political opponent, a cutthroat with little consideration for whom or what he had offended or injured; a gentle loving father as concerned for his people as the One Hero, Hikusaak.

"Ha! Sasarai... I hope he dies soon," said Mitchel spitefully. He never liked Sasarai. How that mild and eternally pleasant child smiled softly to hide his much nastier and cunning nature. And yet, the people of Harmonia adored the eternally young bishop like he was their treasured family puppy. It made Mitchel ill whenever he had the disgusting duty of 'reaching out to the people' and listening to them babbling about how handsome and wonderful Sasarai was. Did they not know how Sasarai actually betrayed Harmonia in the Second Fire Bringer War? Could they not understand that Sasarai had even given extra rations to undeserving third-class citizens?

So when Sasarai fell ill half a year ago, Mitchel personally threw a celebration, inviting a few ambitious priests, some of his closer first-class friends, and Howling Guild contractors. Finally, after years of attempted poisoning, someone had managed to succeed; at least that was what Mitchel had suspected. If Mitchel ever found out who was responsible for the eventual death of Sasarai, Mitchel would handsomely reward him. After all, with Sasarai incapacitated, the Holy Father had begun to delegate militaristic powers to his subordinates, one of whom happened to be Mitchel. And now, Mitchel was appointed General of the Harmonian Southern Regional Army. With a little more luck and some personal effort, he might even make it to general of the entire Harmonian Army.

Chuckling at the image of himself towering over thousands upon thousands of men, Mitchel stood up, feeling a little bolder. Alexander was dead and Sasarai was soon to follow. With the two peacemakers gone,there would be a proverbial blood bath in the Harmonian political battle ground. Mitchel had the majority support of the aristocrats and the Howling Voice. He would become powerful, proving his worth.

Whistling, he strolled off to the garden for tea time.

---------------------------------------------

"Nineteen and a half days," said Alexey. He was leaning against a roughly plastered wall with his arms crossed, eyes on the ceiling. A window was next to him, showing the sparing yard. He watched the Calerian recruits dispassionately with distant eyes. His mind plotted his remaining days as a bishop. "That should be enough time."

He was in the bedroom of a Regional officer. The room smelled terribly of rose aphrodisiacs and musk. A large desk was overflowing with paper. An overly plush large canopy bed in the corner was still unmade from last night's little adventure. Stray clothing, mostly underclothes and a woman's thin panties laid strewn about the sandy floor. Even a moron could figure out what pleasure was had in the king-sized bed.

"Seems like he had fun," said Jeane from a red cushion sofa. Her eyes were scrutinizing. She never planned to be with Alexey for this long, but traveling with him had always been interesting.

"He did have fun," said Alexey stoically, thinking. "He certainly moaned loud enough."

"Hehe...Were you a peeping tom last night?"

"Does it matter if I was?" Alexey shrugged, still staring at the ceiling, seeming nonchalant.

"Hehe. I just find it ironic that his Holiness Alexander isn't surprised by indecency," commented Jeane.

"Neither are you," replied Alexey tersely.

The door opened. A young maid came in with two baskets. She took one look around the room and her face twisted in disgust. "Can't imagine a bishop doing that," muttered the woman as she took out a pair of tongs. She began to pick up the stray garments and separated them by gender. Apparently, she did not notice Alexey standing in the corner or Jeane sitting completely still in the chair. The room was too filthy for the maid to notice. She continued to speak loudly of her opinions.

"Damn that Mitchel, putting down our Calerian soldiers," cursed the woman under her breaths. "As if he ever picked up a knife in his whole entire life." She continued to pick up the garments one by one, careful not to let her hand touch anything. When she picked up some of the yellowed spotted garments, she even sneered. "Divine seeding? How arrogant."

"Teheee...Don't like Mitchel much?" commented Jeane, leaning back on the sofa and spreading her slender arms.

Immediately the maid froze. She took a moment to search the room. When she saw the white-haired woman and the aristocratic-looking man, she collapsed to the ground.

"Oh! Your Holiness Mitchel. Please forgive this pathetic maid! I am so sorry. I did not mean anything I just said."

Alexey raised an eyebrow. "Don't put me in the same class as that pig," he said. "Get up."

At the commanding voice, the maid immediately got up. She looked at the speaker and immediately thought _First-class Harmonian...young one._

"I am Alex, by the way," the man said. "This is my companion, Jeane."

"Ha. How do you do," said Jeane in her sexy alto.

"Fanny," said the maid, relaxed. "Good to meet you, Mr. Alex."

"Likewise," said Alexey.

Fanny continued to pick through the garments. "What are you doing here anyways? His _holiness _might be here any moment."

"I have a meeting with him," said Alexey.

Fanny's eyes darted to Jeane. "You mean, you are offering her?" Satisfying nightly desires was one of the few reasons that Mitchel ever allowed other people in his private bedroom.

Jeane smiled. "Heheh..Perhaps."

Just then, the door burst open. The dark haired Bishop Mitchel stumbled in with two shrouded woman, one with dark skin and one with fair skin. He was giggling with the girls and groping them in private places. The dark-skinned woman giggled back and attempted the same thing. The fair skinned woman did not speak but clutched her shroud about her even tighter. Mitchel motioned for the bed when he saw Jeane sprawled across the sofa, looking quite relaxed and at home.

"Who...who the hell! How did you get in here?" demanded Mitchel.

Jeane sat up straight. "Him." She pointed to the man standing next to a window.

"Hello Mitchel," said Alexey in a deep clear voice, announcing his presence. "I am back."

Mitchel jumped. The antics with the women forgotten, he looked around the room and sucked in a deep terrified breath. The solemn expression was just as he remembered.

Alexey removed his gaze from the ceiling slowly until he was level with the other priest. They were only ten paces apart. "Glad to see that you are as vigorous as ever. Two now? The five you had last night was most impressive."

"You're alive!" squealed Mitchel. He could not stand Alex's scathing blue eyes. He felt as if hooks were pulling at his soul, dissecting him for any wrongdoings.

"For the moment, yes."

"Impossible!" shouted Mitchel. "You are dead! They burned your body! I saw it!"

"Yes you did. I saw it too. The body burned very well once they added all that oil to it."

"How?" whispered Mitchel, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "And you haven't aged at all..."

Alexey shrugged. "I age better than most." He took a deep breath and stood up straight. "Now. Tell me about our beloved Harmonia and the current political scene. Actually, tell me everything about Sasarai." He started pacing. "If not, I will force it out of you."

Mitchel's heart pounded as Alexey steadily walked towards him. Mitchel's mind recalled the only other time Alexey had ever approached him as such, and the moments of relative fearlessness before Mitchel felt the most excruciating pain over his entire body. Alexander never bothered with death threats: he made life hell instead. He would slowly take away things that were valuable to his enemies, make their lovers turn against them and take away their fortunes. Alexander enjoyed slowly nibbling away at his enemies' spirit and will until all signs of life perished from their eyes. No one had a keen definition of the term 'wretched' until they saw the unfortunate people who had earned Alexander's displeasure.

Mitchel looked left and right. The dark skinned Calerian girl was hiding behind him, looking confused. In desperation, Mitchel grabbed her and whirled her around. He yanked a small knife from his side pocket and held the knife to the woman's neck. "Stay where you are!" shouted Mitchel. "Or I will kill this woman!" One of Alexander's weaknesses was the innocent; at least Mitchel hoped that was Alexander's weakness.

Fanny was shaking as she scurried to a corner. The dark skinned Calerian girl began to cry under Mitchel's threat. Jeane sat where she was without moving or twitching her smiling face.

Alexey's calm demeanor did not change either. "I do not pose a mortal threat to you," he said. "Neither does my companion here."

"But I do," said the fair skinned shrouded woman. "To you!"

Something flew at Alexey. A small projectile from the fair-skinned woman flew through the air directly at Alexey's heart.

Alexey stepped aside quickly. A throwing knife grazed Alexey's arm. Dark crimson stains spotted the man's sleeve.

The fair woman threw off her white shroud, revealing an agile body of a Kage ninja woman. She threw a few more knives.

Alexey dodged. He slid sideways and rolled, missing the tiny blades by a hair. He ended up on his knee and a foot, keeping his head low and eyes firmly on the ninja woman. "Ayame," he confirmed. "Come to finish the job Watari failed years ago?"

Without replying, Ayame ran head on toward Alexey. She whipped out her claws, swiping at the young man's throat with poison-dipped tips.

Alexey stepped backward, barely avoiding the forward onslaught. Ayame was quick, definitely measuring up to the reputation of her people. He spread out his arms, steadying himself. One false move on his part and he might be skewered.

"Fast," commented Ayame. "But not fast enough!"

She struck again. The poisoned dipped claws flew through the air, aiming for the arm. Suddenly, she nearly tripped.

The floor of the room was sand, granting less steady ground than the mountain path and cobbled stone paths that Ayame was used to as a ninja. She cursed, knowing that the terrain required her to forgo her greatest strength, speed.

Alexey, however, had already understood the difficulty. Raised on islands and taught to fight on ships, much of his past training emphasized footwork. He stepped and turned, keeping his center of balance low. He morbidly understood that even his speed had to reduce because of the sand.

Whoosh!

A throwing knife embedded itself on Alexey's side in his moment of thought. He winced briefly, feeling the jab of pain, but kept moving. If he stopped, the next target would be his heart.

"I'm outta here," growled Mitchel, seeing Alexey distracted. He pushed the dark-skinned woman to the ground, making a break for the door. He kicked the door open just to see the same white-haired woman. In the split moment that he stopped to stare, the woman thrust the blunt tip of her staff into his sternum, forcing the air out of him, shoving him back inside.

"Not yet," said Jeane. She had teleported just to stop Mitchel. "Alexey is on a schedule. He may become most irritable if you upset his plans." Jane prudently closed the door behind her. She continued to have the man plop down in a corner, her staff pointing menacingly at his lower part. "Any attempt at struggling could cost you...dearly."

Ayame did not relent in her attacks. Her arms swung furiously like a flock of diving falcons, never believing that the man could ever be faster than her. Alexey had drawn his sword to block her, but she would wear him down.

SLICE!

Ayame secretly laughed inside. Finally she had gotten one hit in with her claw. It was a shallow cut on Alexey's other shoulder.

Alexey cursed in an unknown language. He did not think his skills had deteriorated so much over the years. He felt sluggish, as if his arms and legs had lost their stamina during his fifteen years hiatus from serious practice. The cuts on his arms seriously impeded his reflexive parrying. He cursed even more when he saw that Ayame had arrived at the same conclusion.

Ayame's attacks became even more furious, unrelenting like a wave of crossbow arrows. The man displayed fine resistance, better than most she had come after. It almost made her sad when he tripped over his flowing bishop robe, falling on the ground and exposing a vulnerable abdomen. She saw the perfect way to remove his weapon and then his life right then. "Sayonara," Ayame barely whispered as she caught the sword in between the forks of her left claw and flicked the sword out of the man's hand. The right claw flew down for the man's neck artery.

For Alexey, her brief opening was too inviting to miss. Without changing his expression, he wrenched out the dagger that was embedded in his side out and thrust into Ayame's right shoulder. He twisted the knife, searing a vein. Blood flowed like a bubbling creek all the way down to the dagger's hilt and onto his hand.

The wound did not register immediately to Ayame as the dagger had skewed her aim and she slashed his collarbone instead. When the pain in her shoulder finally hit her nerves, the young man's foot found her upper stomach and kicked her five feet away from him.

"You are better than what I expected," said Alexey, jumping up. He pressed his collarbone, assessing the damage. The wound bled a little, just enough to show through his clothes. The other cuts on his arms were minor compared to his side. The area from where he had pulled the dagger was marked crimson. It would take a little longer to cauterize but it would not be life threatening. Years of fighting with swords had given him enough wounds to know what to expect.

"Unfortunately, you failed your contract," said Alexey, his mind very much still on the task at hand.

"You have been poisoned with phantom venom," scoffed Ayame. "You will die within the hour."

Alexey shook his head. "Doubtful. My blood is much more potent than mere phantom venom."

As if the dagger in Ayame's shoulder had a mind of its own, it sank itself deeper into her shoulder into the other side. Somehow, all her nerves in her body felt as if they were electrified. She bit her tongue, trying not to scream. Waves upon waves of pain passed through her body. A blood-color aura surrounded her, digging at her wound. Finally, with a pained screech, she fainted.

"Now stay there," he said placidly.

Then Alexey turned to Mitchel.

The Bishop was shaking. There was a very noticeable wet stain around his groin area. The other woman with him had fled. Fanny was still crouched in the corner, shaking and confused.

"All yours," sang Jeane, pulling her staff back to herself.

The first thing Alexey did was to offer a hand to Mitchel. There was a metallic smell on the black gloves from blood. "I apologize for surprising you. It was not my intention to humiliate you in front of your whores."

Mustering up all the courage he had, Mitchel batted away the hand. "Whaa...What the hell are you..do...doing...here...?"

"I am looking for the traitor," said Alexey airly. "Do you really think I would crawl out of my grave just to see your offending mug?"

Mitchel was still too shaken to think clearly. Alexander was just as he remembered, a demon in combat and in insult. "T...Trai...Traitor? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sasarai is ill to the point that he cannot continue his usual duties. Under the protection of the Circle and Earth, that is a near impossibility. There is foul play. You know it too."

"I...I...I don't know...nothin'!"

"Are you sure?"

Mitchel managed to snort. "Wha...what would...I...do...with that...prodigy of yours? O...only...fools...ever cross...him."

"You are a fool," said Alexey.

"No...no! I...I...I didn't...d...do...anything!"

"Are you being honest with me?"

"I...I...swear!" cried Mitchel.

Icy blue eyes bore into Mitchel's soul, accusing and digging into his darkest secrets.

"All...Alright! I offered up a reward for the man responsible for taking down Sasarai! But the others did too!" Mitchel confessed.

"Names," said Alexey.

Mitchel ransacked his brains for everyone he knew who had some type of grudge against Sasarai. There were so many aristocrats and Howling Voice Agents to name that he spluttered as fast as he could, often slurring and stuttering.

Alexey sighed. Mitchel's stuttering was really getting to him. When had the quality of the priesthood ever plummeted into such depths? To have someone so easily scared into giving names used to be unheard of. It was hard for Alexey to imagine how he used to work for people like that. How did he ever have the self-restraint not to strangle them all those years ago?

"I am sick of you," said Alexey, breaking Mitchel's recital of names. "Get out of my sight."

Mitchel scrambled around. He did not try to change his now wetted pants. He got up and ran as fast as he could from his worst nightmare.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morgan pouted cutely. Her eyes were glazed as she read over the texts that Virgil wanted her to study as punishment. The text recited the founding of the Zexen Federation with much flowery, metaphoric and needlessly estoric language. So Zexen used to be part of the Grassland tribes who happened to direct themselves in attaining wealth instead of all that mystic spirit worshipping business. Why did they have to spend over two thousand pages of myopia-inducing text to describe it? She had to spent last half an hour reading about how "pre-historic" killed deer for trade.

_How can anyone write this crap?_ thought Morgan. Then she pouted some more, having caught herself falling into the unlady-like habit of cursing. _It's all Ra's fault anyways!_ reasoned Morgan. Rakasvi never approved of cursing, but he sure does know all the words. Morgan knew this because she had caught him sleeping under a tree one day. There were a flock of brown birds, the ones that looked like the same species as her own pet, Potch. That flock of birds probably ate a lot before showing up because they dumped quite a bit of droppings on Rakasvi. It was then that Morgan learned of Rakasvi's vast knowledge of insults. She did not even understand some of them.

"Where is he anyways?" whined Morgan to herself. "Why can't it be three weeks yet?"

Rakasvi went away the very day her father's estate freehands showed up. At the very beginning, it was endurable.

The first day was nice, with every single servant from her father's estates being extra nice to her, giving her candies and all that. The second day was nice too as the chef simmered up some amazing stew that was about as good as Rakasvi's stews. The third day was about where it went downhill. The people were practicing the air of torture by making her as ladylike as they could. They put a corset on her little body and caked her face with a layer of smelly powder. She snuck out of that little activity and went to the knights lounging around the house. Then when she tried to show off some of the sword techniques to the older knights, they laughed at her before she could do anything. Nothing else made her blood boil more than being laughed at. So in an unusual fit of rage, she tackled a knight twice her size and punched him in the spots where Rakasvi taught her. She had managed to bruise him badly and he had to be sent to a doctor for a broken nose. PJ, Percival's son, was there and taunted her too. He received a black eye and two broken bones.

To say it nicely, her father was not pleased. After a speech full of scary, berating words, she was sent to solitary study with a sore rump and hurtful tears. Her father really should not have threatened to send her away to boarding school or the actual convent. She repeated "I hate you, I hate you," to her father numerous times before proceeding with her punishment.

Morgan sighed, thinking about her tutor. Rakasvi could make any lesson fun, and he never took her desire to learn swordsmanship as a joke. Rakasvi was becoming more and more like the older brother she never had, until he ran off without telling her, which made her sad and angry at the same time.

_"When he gets back, I will give him a piece of my mind!"_ swore Morgan. _"How dare he leave me here with that stupid brat PJ!"_

While Morgan suffered away in the study on the second floor, her father and Mister Percival were having tea outside in the vast garden.

"I am sorry about Morgan's behavior," Borus apologized for the third time. "How are your son's arms?"

Percival shrugged. "It'll heal." Somehow, he was not too suprised that Morgan could be so ferocious; her father certainly had worse temper when he was her age. "I am just surprised that your daughter was able to break Sir Reed's nose."

"I was too," admitted Borus. "I don't know where she learned those things from." He shook his head, feeling a little more than ambivalent toward the whole ordeal. He wondered if he should feel proud or disappointed that his own ten-year old daughter could bloody a seasoned soldier's nose. He did not want people to brand his daughter as uncouth and unrefined. On the other hand, he did not want her to be completely helpless either.

"Ha. Reed deserved it probably. Pay up for all those times he put down Lady Chris's skills just because she was a girl."

"True," agreed Borus.

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the free hands arranging and planting new autumn blooms. It would be another two days before the extravagant ball for Miss Nina and her entourage. It would be a day of fun for all of them and much wine would be drunk.

"By the way, did Thomas say he can come?" asked Percival.

"Yes," confirmed Borus. "His letter just showed up today. He wants to bring Cecile as an escort but that's about it."

"Did he mention anything strange happening around Budehuc?"

Borus thought for a moment. "Yes. He did. He said something about people ending up in strange places one early afternoon, then how their rune mistress disappeared with some Harmonian. Why?"

"Something major is happening. The Budehuc Times had an article about someone seeing a man coming back from the dead in Caleria. Apparently, it's one of the Arch Bishops who had died fifteen years ago."

"What are you saying?"

"You told me that you have a Harmonian servant. I'm just wondering if there's any connection," said Percival with a devious smile. "It would be the irony of a lifetime."

Borus paused for a moment to consider it seriously. He did some mental calculations to Rakasvi's age then shook his head. "I truly doubt it. Rakasvi doesn't look anywhere past twenty-five, if even that. He would be about ten years old. Besides, how in the world did he ever end up in Caleria? He left about a week ago and it takes a month of hard riding to get there."

Percival took that in. Silly Borus, always taking his words too literally. "I guess you're right."

Somewhere in the gardens, a hunched-over aged bald man with bugging bloodshot eyes overheard them. He was planting exotic looking herbs and flowers. His limbs were as dry and hard as wood. The clothes he wore were nondescript and dirtied from trudging in the mud.

"Hey!" cried the Head Gardener, "Get back to work!"

This hunched-over aged man nodded slowly and kneeled down to the ground. He carefully planted the new species of roses, snickering to himself.

"Haha..." the laugh was cruel, with an inhuman quality. "I found you. I found you!"

"Hey!" the Head Gardener was getting a little annoyed. "What are you laughing about?"

"Heheh...ehheheh." the bald man was still laughing. He raised a sickle.

The Head Gardener did not even notice the sickle connecting with his neck.

"Too bad," said the bald man, dragging the body to a shadier spot in the garden. He was chuckling to himself, amused and overly pleased. Whistling, he dug a shallow hole like he was planting another flower. After he dragged the body into the hole and buried it, he patted the soil down nice and flat with a shovel.

"Now I just need to wait for the right moment."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: This chapter was more or less a practice in writing fight scenes since I am not good at them. Next chapter is going to be more about other characters because I think I had enough of Hero 4.

Suikorin


	11. Change

Chapter 10: Change

Only a week had passed since Alexey began his journey to Crystal Valley, yet nearly all of Harmonia had heard of his return. Faithful followers, people who had once found Bishop Alexander their spiritual leader, began their pilgrimages to the areas where he was reportedly seen. People prayed, cried, and praised the One Hero for resurrection of their beloved priest. There was something about Alexander that made the people feel cleansed of their sins. No one understood how it happened, maybe it was his voice or his kindness, but all good people, those who had been wronged, found themselves demanding Alexander's presence. So once the day of the sabbath came, the churches became full to the brim with attendence. Temple guards, soldiers, farmers, merchants, people from every walk of life, flocked to mass. They prayed intensely for the blessing of Alexander's presence.

Bishop Mitchel, however, vehemently denounced the "so-called Alexander" as an imposter, a criminal who used the good name of the Healer Bishop to lure away faithful Harmonians. He reminded all that resurrections were the work of evil. His fervent vituperation were spiteful and nasty. He throuroghly convinced many that the sightings of Alexander were mere hoaxes, like the fake Flame Champion.

It was because of the mixed excitment surrounding himself that Alexey was sporting the thick and warm Zexen cloak and throwing a low hood over his head. He brought two horses, one for himself and Jeane.

Jeane still had the scandalous slits in the sides of her legs. Alexey had somehow hoodwinked her into a Calerian woman's shroud for her face. However, Jeane insisted on leaving a good portion of her upper chest bare, showing off much of her assets.

The two had been traveling around the towns near Caleria, or more appropriately, the Harmonian settlements that were within two days of riding. That distance was considered short enough for Alexey to utilize his near-undetectable teleportation ability without straining himself too much. They searched those towns, looking for people whose names were given by Mitchel. Normally that consisted of Alexey casually breaking and entering private homes, digging through personal notes, occasionally confronting the said people, then leaving suddenly without explanation. Jeane sometimes accompanied Alexey on his excursions. She was the watch, the trapper, the chilling smiling sorceress who never had to resort to real show of power. Other times, she simply indulged in the ordinary luxuries of baths and shopping. She had the potch, the time to spare, and a city full of merchants and service. She was not held to great responsibilities like him, she was not stupid enough to land herself into position of power.

That was the general things for the past week.

For now, they were riding up the snowy mountain path to Le Buque. Alexey had borrowed (indefinitely) two mottle mares for himself and Jeane. The weather had turned even cooler since the passing of mid-autumn. Rain and snow, some of the very last moisture from the western sea, was falling lightly against their hoods and shoulders. The mares trudged slowly through the icy slush, careful not to lose their footing. These beasts did not have bridles to direct them, but seemed to be guided by some higher force not to trot off the treacherous ridges that railed the paths of Mount Senai.

Jeane yawned, feeling a little bored since Alexey ignored her for most of the past evening and this morning. He snuck off for one of his private visits late last night. When he came back, he sat at a desk and wrote several letters. Many nasel birds would crowd around the windowsill, near his desk, all waiting for the letter. Sure, nasel birds could deliver messages by repeating the verbal message, but these were wild nasel birds. Once done writing, Alexey took his mandatory three hour nap. After that, he made their breakfast and set off, never speaking a word.

She did entertain herself during that time, though, with several of the items that Alexey had nonchalantly pilfered. Jewels, gems, runes and rings were among the many things he had garnered from unsuspecting aristocrats and merchants. The jewelry adorned her black-gloved fingers beautifully. The runes he took were all rare, mostly ones that granted a special ability or were themselves a higher-class elemental rune. The rings were typically magically imbued, increasing one's affinity for certain elements. Not that Jeane would ever need it, since there was more than enough runic power between the two of them to dispose of an army. No. these trinkets would be pawned later for money.

"Hey, what are you up to?" asked Jeane at some point. She sat on a plush but secure saddle, her legs swung to one side, trailing about three yards behind him.

"_Having a short Waking Dream_." Thousands upon thousands of voices all speaking the same words drifted into Jeane's mind like echoes in a cave.

Surreptitiously, Jeane smiled under her shroud. That had to be the reason why he had kept silent since morning. Leave it up to him to still function when performing a divination that easily caused a lesser magician to suffer mouth-foaming fits. Besides Leknaat, he had always been the best seer. "Hum..." she almost giggled. "Anything interesting?"

Alexey shrugged and blinked, banishing the visions and voices. "When are visions of the future not interesting?" he queried back with a hint of exasperation. His patience was wearing thin from too many things. He had slept less than usual, and pushed his awareness to the extreme. There was not a moment when he was not in complete control of a situation. He was constantly analyzing all aspect of his surroundings, completely wary of any stranger's motives. An archbishop certainly could not afford many petty mistakes like misreading the intentions of men. Plus, all his efforts had resulted only in a sick sinking feeling and even more speculation. Then in his desire for more certainty, he invoked a skill that he had not utilized for over a decade.

"Hehe. You are dodging the implied question," commented Jeane. She had noticed his faint but detectable drift toward irritation, but that did not concern her. His problems were his and not hers. She even considered her presence as a favor to him. "I want to know what exactly you see."

"If you wonder so much, then take a look for yourself," said Alexey in a airily way that could easily infuriate a normal person. He continued on, without any reaction to the barely noticable narrowing of Jeane's eyes. "You know how," he said, then pursed his lips, "...unless, you are afraid."

"Of going mad?"

"No. Of caring," said Alexey cryptically. "Of putting your soul in danger of feeling anything for them."

"Ah...But I do care. I just don't take things as personally as you do. Most of them don't deserve our concern." There was a momentary pause where Jeane smiled knowingly. "I know you harbor the same disposition."

"Are you sure?" challenged Alexey.

"Why else would you allow some of the greatest of Gatherings attended only by a mediocre wind mage?" asked Jeane. Traces of her usually whimsical personality completely disappeared. "He was unfriendly, barely cooperative, a child demi-god with a deranged sense of his own wisdom and importance. He nearly killed McDohl before his time, almost refused to assist Riou, and tried to destroy Harmonia using a failed technique. Had you cared enough, you could had easily disposed of him and take his place as a star."

Alexey snorted. "But those Gatherings succeeded, did they not? The amount of effort means nothing to the fates. You understand this too. When was the last time you were willing to go on a potch-making trip for someone?"

Jeane's expression grew thoughtful. "Hum...I think it was with that half-blooded child...what's his name?"

"Kyril," reminded Alexey. "And he had to bribe you with fragements from the Obel ruins. I told him not to recruit you, but he insisted. Saying that "the others want her with us.""

At that comment Jean laughed heartily. "Well, I was a little more energetic back then. And that pirate Hervy was most interesting. Dario kept on drooling into his ale. And Kika, the most handsome and cool pirate queen actually enjoys my company. Not to mention I get some time with you."

Alexey's horse stopped, and pawed at the air. He stayed secured on his horse, keeping an errie balance that seemed to defy natural law. He glared back with icy eyes. "This is not a game, Jeane. What we do, the amount of power we release, even our mere thoughts can easily affect the coming of Armageddon."

Jeane's mare strolled to a stop, obviously unperturbed by another's creature's agitation.

"Let me remind you that I am not one of you. I just am," said Jeane with a disgustingly pleasant air. "And you call yourself better? What have you been doing these last thirty years? Hum? An errand boy for Hikusaak, then a homeless vagabond. What could you have possibly done during that time?"

"Atoning," said Alexey. "It's not something I expect you to understand. Like Yuber, you have forgotten what it is like to be human."

At that, Jeane laughed. "I hardly expect you to be preaching that to me, my dearest."

"Mock me all you want Jeane. I will never be like the others."

"Hehe. But you will. You have come too far. We are mere participants. Unwilling or willing, we cannot escape fate," she reminded him with a superior tone. "But I suppose I can't blame you for feeling somewhat indolent. You are the most disagreeable vermin."

The insult was there, but Alexey ignored it as he would ignore an annoying fly. He caught himself in his sudden anger. the show of emotion other than faint irritation was not who Alexey was. He glanced at Jeane.

The mysterious sorceress was grinning most triumphly. She had caught him.

Alexey growled to himself. Jeane had just tried to catch him unaware, forcing him out of the personality he created. He would have to return the honor at some point. Then, banishing those thoughts away, he changed the subject. "Did Miss Ayame ever wake up?" asked Alexey, as if their previous conversation never occured. "I never had the chance to see what had become of her."

"Yes," hummed Jeane almostly sweetly. "You shouldn't have pulled out that dagger and stuck it into her. The hidden knife under your sleeve could have easily sufficed. Your blood has caused her utmost pain."

"I was feeling a little peevish," he said casually. He raised his left hand in front of him then clenched forcefully. "I have been with it for too long. Even my blood is reflecting my mood." He looked away. "You took care of her?" He asked and almost hesitantly, he added, "as I instructed?"

Jeane laughed the same ominscient laugh, the one that gave the impression that she was capable of evil things, like slitting a person's throat while they were deep asleep. But at the same time, Alexey relaxed. Things had gone back to their normal nebulous standing. "What? Are you afraid that I killed her?"

"Yes," admitted Alexey. "She will be needed later on. I know your penchant for causing me trouble."

"Don't worry," said Jeane. "I had made sure that she went back to the Kage in one piece instead of several. The idiot Mitchel forgot the whole thing so he won't be sending any lackies to the Kage. And no, the Kage aren't the traitors you were looking for."

"Much to my dismay," muttered Alexey. He already knew they were not the ones. All he needed was one glance at people, and he could see their most grievous errors. It was one of the more irritating abilities he had developed over time.

The two rode on in thick silence for some time. Jeane hummed a native tune to herself. Alexey was quieted by his thoughts.

"We will be arriving at Le Buque in half an hour," said Alexey as they came upon a fork. "Be on your best behavior. Nothing to embarass me or trouble the Carna people."

Jeane raised an eyebrow and smiled. She could taste the possible mischief in the air. "...Why?"

"I owe the Carna people a favor."

"Haha. The world owes you a favor, not the other way around."

"Just do as I say."

Jeane crossed her fingers behind her back. "Alright."

-----------------

Lotty yawned.

She was sitting on a bench, underneath a lacy parasol in the front courtyard. The sun was about three-quarters of the way across the sky, still very bright and warm. The cool breeze from the sea felt comforting on her skin.

Lazily, she crossed her arms and laid them on a convenient picnic table, her head on top of her arms. Usually, by this time, she would start the preparation for supper with Rakasvi. It felt almost weird to be doing nothing.

_Well...It's not my fault_, thought Lotty childishly

Ever since those other twerps cames, she literally had all her work stolen. There was no longer any cooking or cleaning. She went to take the sheets for the softening soak only to find someone had already beaten her to it. Peeling potatoes quickly became unplausible right after dawn. The dishes seemed to be perpetually clean. The floor was clean enough to eat off of. Dusting was even out of the question since the fable white-gloved wipe came out unsmudged when tested in the most remote cabinetry.

Sure, she had no work now, but she was terribly bored. At least with Rakasvi, he would tell her legends of far off lands, captivate her attention during their mundane tasks with fascinating tales. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. A young woman like her had little practice in waiting and felt the misery most keenly.

Her father, Derek was having the time of his life, however. With his work also taken care of, he had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted. He often went down to the kitchen and laundry area. There he would shamelessly flirt with the maids, both young and old. When he got smacked a few too many times, he snuck out to the Guzzling Dove Tavern for a good tankard of sweet ale. He typically had enough drinks to make him a jolly drunk by the time he came back. Fortunately, no one made it a point to inform Lord Redrum about Mister Derek's habits.

Miss Morgan's daily temper was deteriorating much like Lotty's. Except, instead of sulking in misery, she brooded like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Morgan was usually an amiable little girl that all fathers across the world could only dream of having. With pretty strawberry blonde hair, wide lavender eyes, and the most winsome of smiles, her looks had charmed the entire freehand staff almost immediately. The fact that she was Lord Redrum's only little girl helped a lot too. She was the very image of etiquette, always curtsying cutely and asking the staff if she could help them with their tasks.

Then her mercurial moods reared their unpleasant face.

The first incident with Lord Fraulein's son was considered as a freak accident. "It never happened. That little girl can't fight with a boy," said one of the staff. Then there was Sir Reed's bleeding and broken nose. He gave the nurses a personal testimony of, "I have never heard such exotic language from a girl!" Then PJ, bawling his eyes out when the doctors set the bones and used the water rune, swore that he would get back that "spoiled brat" for his arm.

Of course, the freehands were amazed. The cute innocuous-looking little girl who could send a full knight to a doctor but still quiver in fear of her father's mere words seemed oxymoronic. They all quietly gossiped amongst themselves, curious of what other surprising behavior the little girl could exhibit. They all guessed some other equally embarrassing actions, like having people look up her skirt or hurting one of the honored guests. Many of the ideas were outrageous, and sometimes laughable. The good thing was that Morgan never heard those comments; the girl was literally locked in the second-floor study with age old texts and dusty abbacuses for her misbehavior. Lotty hated to think what nasty pranks Morgan would sic on people if she was free.

Smiling a little, Lotty sat up. She propped her head with her left hand and her left elbow on the table. Her wrist jingled from the small charms that hung on a pure silver bracelet. Looking at the bracelet made Lotty feel warm in the heart. The bracelet was a symbol of Morgan's care for Lotty. Absently, Lotty reached in her shirt and pulled out the ring strung on a piece of fabric. She suddenly wondered what Rakasvi was doing. Was he thinking about them? What personal things was he attending to?

"Lotty," came a quiet voice from behind the young woman.

Lotty turned to see the same little girl she was thinking about.

Standing there was Morgan. Her hair was barely brushed and fell all over her face. Her pink dress was ruffled and slightly dirtied around the hem from running in the mud. Her expression was one of suffering. And once she saw that she had Lotty's attention, she quickly closed the gap between them and ran to hug her waist.

"Morgan," started Lotty. "What's wrong?"

"I can't stand geometry," moaned Morgan pitifully into Lotty's stomach.

_Oh Yeah. Her punishment today is math..._remembered Lotty. Lord Redrum was very firm in his decision to discipline his daughter. So he sent the little girl to solitary study from morning until supper. Lunch was supposed to be slipped in to her chamber through a slot in the door. Lotty knew this well because she was the one who had to fight the little girl's screams of injustice when dragging her to the study. Then Lotty was the same person who slipped her the cold lunch. "Um...how did you get out? I recall that your father personally locked the door to the study..." asked Lotty.

Morgan mutely pulled out a pin from her hair. "I picked the locks," said Morgan almost guiltily. She wrenched herself away and looked into Lotty's grey eyes. "You won't tell, right?"

That was not on Lotty's mind. She looked at Morgan incredulously. "And how in the world did you learn to pick locks?"

"Ra taught me..." Morgan caught herself. "Oh shoot. He told me not to tell anyone either..." She looked to Lotty again. "Can this just a secret between us?" she pleaded, using the most adorable and pathetic expression she could muster. Her lips even trembled as if she was ready to cry.

Lotty shook her head, unsure of what to make of the implied statement. Rakasvi was full of unusual talents and knowledge. She guessed that she should not be surprised if he taught her things like lock picking. "Of course."

Morgan immediately brightened. "Thank you! Now, can you play knight and squire with me?"

The young woman groaned; she definitely did not like to play knight and squire. Play house where they have tea maybe, but never the wooden stick waving like Rakasvi usually did with Morgan. However, she saw an escape just as soon as the mailman came and dumped off a wooden boxload of mail.

"Sure," agreed Lotty, trying to delay the inevitable. "But let's go check mail first." Seeing the reluctance in Morgan's eyes, Lotty added, "Rakasvi might've written to us."

Morgan's pale eyes widened visibly at that possibility. She was the very first person to grab hold of Lotty's hand and dragged her toward the boxload of mail. Before Lotty could say another word, Morgan was already shifting through the letters.

"Don't know this person...Don't know this person...Don't know this person..." repeated Morgan again and again. Her tiny fingers were nimble like a squirrel digging for nuts. "Papa...Papa...Mr. Derek..." she handed that one to Lotty while her smiling lips were rapidly drooping at the corners. Obviously, this box of mail contained many replies to the ball invitation, something that Morgan did not care for. Still, she was not discouraged, she had to make sure.

"Hey!" squealed Morgan in triumph finally. "This says Milady Morgan Anna Redrum!"

Now Lotty was interested too. She quickly put her father's letter aside and leaned very close to Morgan. "Open it," she said.

Morgan did not need anymore encouragement. She quickly tore along the side of the envelope.

"Quickly, read what it says," commanded Lotty. She, too, was excited that Rakasvi actually wrote to them.

_"Greetings Milady Morgan," _began Morgan.

_"I hope all has been well since my recent absence. How is your father? And Miss Lotty and Mister Derek? And the party? Were there many knights? Has it even happened yet?"_

_"I am most miserable where I am now. It snows and then rains. When it gets tired of those two, it hails. The inn I stayed at had a straw roof when I realized that. So now I have a black eye and a cold. My suggestion to you, unless you have a good reason, never travel during the rainy season."_

_"I have met up with an acquaintance who is accompanying me on my journey. She is a relatively eccentric old woman with little regards to the personal comforts of others. On my way to Budehuc, she literally popped onto me in the middle of nowhere. I was really ticked off at her, but she just laughed at me for no good reason. Then she somehow badgered me into helping her move her rune shop. After a week, I still don't know how she did it. BUT! Revenge will be sweet, I swear it!_

_"Also, no matter what people say, I am not a bully! You see, before I came to your father, I knew this random kid named Mitchel. Well, I thought that since I'm passing by his place, it would be a good thing if I go see him, you know, to be polite. I was very nice too, I even scheduled an appointment. But he delayed our meeting. And after we met, he kept on saying means things about me, like "heathen! filth! foul demon!" He said that I give him nightmares and had scarred him emotionally for the rest of his life. I mean, I use to pick on him, but he did not have to hold a grudge for that long, did he?"_

_"Well, that's all I have to say. I will write again in a week. Take good care of your father and Virgil. Tell Lotty and Derek that I said hi._

_"Sincerely,_

_"R_

_"PS: Remember that bone splinting technique I taught you. I suspect that you will utilize it soon enough, if not already."_

Morgan finished reading with the biggest grin on her face. Rakasvi wrote to her specifically. Now she was no longer angry, but happy with him. Soon, he will be back and they would have all the fun times together again. No more boring solitary studying.

Lotty's mood was pensive. Why did Rakasvi write only to his charge? What about his benefactor, Lord Borus? And his boss Virgil? What about herself? _"Oh quiet Lotty. He doesn't know that you like him,_" thought Lotty moodily to herself. Thinking about letters reminded Lotty of that official correspondence she found weeks ago. Where did she leave it? Probably in one of her aprons pockets. Since Master Borus was home now, she might as well give it to him.

"Oh! Lotty!" exclaimed Morgan, easily distracted as usual. "Look, there's Lady Chris!" She kept the letter to herself and ran toward the lady knight. Lotty, left alone, had no choice other than to follow her young mistress.

"Lady Chris! Lady Chris!" clamored Morgan. She sprinted the the entire thirty yards to the gates where Lady Chris was letting herself in.

The Silver Maiden was wearing a stiff-sleeveless royal red outer longcoat trimmed with silver. Underneath was a high-collared long-sleeved white shirt and comfortable white pants. On her feet were long black boots that cut off just below the knees, also trimmed with silver. Her hair was up in its usual bun and her lips turned down in her typical seriousness. She was still the captain of the knights, and her dress and bearing exuded her rank. The two squires attending her, a girl named Cassidy and a boy named Wesly, obediently followed her without question. These two wore the regular uniforms and armors of Zexen squires.

Morgan, though taught of the formalities when regarding the respectables, was not mindful of the procedural bows and greetings. "Lady Chris!" cried Morgan loud enough to wake the entire cavern of the Great Hallow before tackling Chris with a jump hug.

Chris was somewhat surprised, but she had ample warning with Morgan repeating "Lady Chris" nonstop. Chris received the little girl in kind, holding out her arms just in time to catch her and swing her upward. Chris twirled the little girl around once before allowing the hug.

"Lady Chris! I missed you lots!" declared Morgan as she happily hugged the woman's neck. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in like, forever!"

"I miss you too, Morgan," said Chris with her usual formal tone, but softer. She let Morgan down, looking down at the adorable little girl who only came up to her waist.

"Did you bring me a present?" asked Morgan almost immediately, utilizing the cuteness that usually got her everything she wanted. "And where's Uncle Salome? And Uncle Leo? OOo! And what about Uncle Roland and Mrs. Nei? Did you know about Ra? He's my new nanny, ya know? And Potch! Yes. Potch is my pet, but don't tell Papa, okay? I think he might get angry...Lady Chris?" Morgan started tugged on Chris's long coat. "Are you even listening?"

"Yes. I am," said Chris calmly, though she could not help but snort in amusement. Of the many who knew Chris, only one other was as upfront and demanding as Morgan. "And yes. I did bring you a present. Cassidy. Give her the box."

Cassidy, one of the squires newly assigned to Chris stepped forward. She was a fourteen years-old girl with dark-brown hair and equally dark-brown eyes. She stared at Morgan with obvious contempt, critical at how the small girl could ever act so impolite around the Zexen hero. Lady Chris deserved more respect, more dignity, more etiquette than that. Begrudgingly, She produced a brightly wrapped box and gave it to Morgan.

"Thank you," said Morgan. She received the box and bowed to Cassidy. With unrestrained eagerness, Morgan tore open the wrappings and pulled out a giant owl teddy bear that was about a quarter of Morgan's size.

Morgan examined the stuffed animal quizzically. She had many dolls, ones from all over the world, but never one in the shape of an owl. Suddenly, something clicked in her head. "Oh wow! This is the brown owl from the Island Nations, right?"

Chris blinked. She had not expected Morgan to know. "Yes...Yes it is," said Chris, still somewhat taken by Morgan's knowledge. The Island Nations were very far south, further than Toran and the vaguely dubbed 'Southlands.' The only reason the Island Nations were known was because of their spices that fetched astronomical prices when traded with the Grasslands and Dunan. The Zexen Trade Guild would love a share of the profit that were to be made. Chris came by this particular owl as part of a gift exchange between herself and Nina.

"Ra told me about these," said Morgan. She patted the velvet fur of the stuffed owl doll, feeling the extreme softness unmatched by any of her current stuffed animals. "He said that there used to be giant owls, bigger than a man, and people used to ride them."

"Sounds like this Ra person knows a lot," commented Chris.

"Yes he does," agreed Morgan with merry crescent moon eyes. "Oh! Yeah. You're here to see Papa, right? Sir Percival is here too, you know. "

Chris nodded.

"I'll take you to him!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nina paced back and forth in the Guild Apartments, an extension of the Zexen Guild Hall. Her face was one of petulance and agitation. Here, in the red rays of a dusk sun, her blonde hair seemed aflame, the color of blood. The two attendants, soldiers who wore the tall coned caps, stood in perfect attention and consternation. Si'cham, the translator cowered in the corner in obvious fear.

Where the hell is he? shouted Nina suddenly, All signs say he is here! 

Nina could not understand it. All those intercepted messages traced to this place specifically. She went through the trouble of drawing a treaty for the excuse to come. Then she endured the months-long voyage on a rocky boat. Worse, she asked for the Lightfellows, but the last descendant of that line was a brute, magic deficient girl who married into the Harras. Nina was looking for a man in his forties with affinity for the water runes, not some silly man-woman.

Why could she not find the legendary Prince now? She had followed all the clues.

Kal! yelled Nina.

Kal, one of the Obel soldiers stiffened to attention. Your Highness! 

Tell me why he isn't here, said Nina. I don't understand it! All those signs! He must want us to find him! 

Well... Kal was about to reply, only to be cut short by Nina.

There has got to be something that we missed! Even the stupid birds said that he is here as a civil servant. Nina's outburst softened. Where can he be? Why does he abandon his homeland in the time of distress? 

Si'cham, the bald man with wild eyes, darted next to Kal, keeping a good distance from Nina. Si'cham had never seen Miss Nina so infuriated. She was usually so controlled, so refined, just as expected of a Princess. She stumped into the next room and slammed the door, starting to break things. Hey, whispered Si'cham to Kal. Who is she looking for? 

The Prince, whispered Kal back.

The Prince? 

It's the legend of the leading family of Obel, the En Kuldes, before the war between the Islands and Kooluk. They speak of a Prince, a distant relative of the En Kuldes who cannot die. History says that he was King of Obel from Solis 313 to 333, but he was so young that he took on the title, Prince. Her highness is here looking for him. 

A man who cannot die? Si'cham had heard of stories about people who were blessed with immortality, though he himself had never seen an immortal.

Yes. They also say that he is a great mage and an unsurpassed swordsman with double blades. Then Kal's voice lowered even more. Personally, I think the En Kuldes made up the story about the Prince. I mean, if he's alive now, he would be over one-hundred-seventy years old. 

But he is an immortal, said Si'cham. And why is she looking for him? 

Kal looked around, making sure only him, Si'cham, and the other soldier were within earshot. Her Highness is being challenged by someone for the Obel throne, he said over the shattering of priceless china. Obel isn't powerful enough by itself, but traditionally, the person leading Obel utimately becomes the head chair for the entire Island Nations. That is what she wants and she is looking for the Prince's support. 

Hey! whispered Solt, the other guard. Be quiet. Her Highness is coming out. 

Nina came out of the room, looking disturbingly calm. My apologies, she began formally. I should not have lost my temper. When is the official signing of the trade treaties? 

In two days, your Highness, said Solt.

Good. Pack everything. We will leave the night of. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's End Note: Eh...School sucks...actually, school doesn't suck. It's the homework that sucks. I mean, learning how to design a floculation chamber is quite exciting. It's the actual ten page write up that sucks.

So yeah, this one wasn't beta-ed too well. So please please please send me a message about it.

Suikorin


	12. Le Buque

AN: This is probably the slowest part for some reason. I just don't feel inspired to write this. (Yeah, how in the world will I ever be a writer? hum?) I know I must build momentum, good momentum. But still...

This feels like I'm building inertia instead. like the amount of energy stays constant while the mass increases, thus the entire mass must slow down.

That and I beat Suikoden 5. Good game, but it told me that I cannot endure anymore RPGs. Sadness...

-----------------------------

Chapter 10: Le Buque

"You're joking," said Bishop Gabriel.

Gabriel sat cross-legged in front of an orb. He wore a typical blue and back priest robe. His yellow eyes looked almost haughty at the equally yellow orb where Mitchel's face was staring at at him. The orb sat on top of a cleared desk in the center of a dim room.

"I am not, Gabriel!" said the image of Mitchel. "He's alive! You told me that the damned Kage fellow Wat..whatever his name is, had killed him!"

Gabriel's face expressed skepticism. "Were you drunk at the time? We all know you enjoy yourself to the utmost."

"Look! I was not drunk. I am not joking. I am not insane. It's him! The very devil himself has come back!"

At that Gabriel laughed heartily, a mirthless and sarcastic laugh. "The devil? He has convinced all of his congregation that he is the angel, the savior, sent by the Sword and Shield themselves!"

Mitchel scowled, annoyed by Gabriel's needless wheedling. "Devil or angel. He may be back because of that brat. Then all our plans would be ruined!"

"Our plans?" said Gabriel with a warning tone. His yellow eyes seemed to turn into a even paler yellow, that almost glowed. "Let me remind you that it is your own cowardly confession that sent Nathan to the headsman's block. It is only because of that brat's trust in you that we haven't sent the Howling Voice after you."

Mitchel obviously flinched, though he quickly recovered. "And it's at my request that Sasarai did not denounce you."

"Ha! Then what use would you have once we have him eliminated?"

"I have the control over the Southern Regiment," said Mitchel. "Not that it will mean a thing if Alexander drops in on you."

Gabriel snorted, but that statement did concern him. He had lived long enough to know one of many canonical statements that the Healer Bishop had lived by. One of them was "When you kill someone, be sure there is a body and they are really dead. But even then, you can still make a mistake." Alexander had never been mistaken with any prophetic sayings.

"Fine," relented Gabriel. "Close the borders and set a guard at each gate house. Send the Temple guards and Magicians here within a week."

"At once!" confirmed Mitchel, then he added, "What about Sasarai? You know he can ruin everything."

"The brat will not live long. I can guarantee it."

"How?"

"Because our greatest supporter is also his most trusted Father."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Morgan stared. She was an adorable little girl, wearing her favorite pink outfit and bows. Since the afternoon, she kept her behavior as sweet and agreeable as possible. She was to have a cordial dinner with Lady Chris and Sir Percival, thus she was to be on her best behavior so as not to embarrass Papa.

So she bided her time until their dinner started. An experienced maid from the estates waited on them hand and foot. It was dark out now. The candles and oils were lit. Morgan sat two seats from her father's right, opposite of the brat...

PJ, named so as not to confuse him with his father, was digging into his appetizer with a salad fork and crunching on his celery with his mouth open. Then he sipped his soup noisily, using a tea spoon. He had tucked his napkin into his shirt instead of placing it on his lap.

Morgan was appalled. Did this boy not know table manners?

PJ seemed to understand how his frivolous disregard to etiquette was disturbing Morgan. He had met plenty of fastidious girls like her. His father was Sir Percival, and that afforded many opportunities to meet up with snooty daughters of rich councilmen and knights. He opened his mouth nice and wide, showing Morgan the totally appalling mishmash of masticated fish and zucchini, breathing out to allow her a full whiff of wonderful garlic and onion.

Morgan clutched her little fist and narrowed her eyes. Her leg twitched.

There was a loud bump under the table.

"Ow!"

"PJ?" asked Percival, distracted from his conversation with his best friend and captain. "What's wrong?"

Morgan gave PJ the most annoying triumphant look. She seemed to dare the boy to tell on her.

"Nothing," said PJ between gritted teeth.

While the children entertained each other with inane offenses, the conversation of the adults turned serious.

Somewhere else in the house, a bold man was hunched over, meandering the hallways, going through the room like a malevolent ghost from the past. He was in the study, fluid red eyes darting left and right.

"My, my. Aren't we being careless?" he chuckled to himself as he pulled off a book written in the old script that resembled dragons in motion. "Priceless Cyndaran text, used as a children's story book. You have changed."

He tucked the book under his arm and went to the master's suite. There, he rummaged through the desk, looking through the papers. There was a rather conspicuous letter on the corner of the desk. He picked it up, smiling grotesquely as he skimmed the letter. "So that's where you have disappeared to...looks like Leknaat was right..."

"But then again...you could very well do this to trick me," he muttered darkly. "No. No. That can't be. You are trying to confuse me. You are trying to deceive me. Everything you are is here. I just have to be patient, like you, and plan my moves."

----------------------------------------------------

Le Buque had changed and not changed since the last stretch of time Alexey had spent here.

The Mentors, large horse-sized insects that resembled wasps with shiny husks that glowed, still made their nests on the roofs of the houses that were on the sheer side of cliffs. The buzz in the air from the beating of wings was deafening and soothing at the same time, like the continuous roar of civilization. A Le Buque insect rider had skillfully dismounted a Mentor. He adjusted his skull cap before waving his hand in a concise gesture. The aerial shopkeepers, the ones who kept their open air stand in a platform high in the sky, clapped their hands to gain attention. Most people wore the traditional wide brimmed mushroom cap hats. They still sported the trident-like weapons and greeted the new arrivals with the politeness and hospitality that they were once famed for.

However, Alexey could tell the differences from what everything was like sixty years before. The atmosphere around him felt depressed and heavy. There was an unspoken sorrow, bitter and defeated. The traditional long accosting that invoked the blessing of the spirits had been long since replaced by the punctilious and terse Harmonian welcome. Enough time had passed that the newer generation had been throughly assimilated to the ways of their conquerers. And even after the Second Fire Bringer War, Le Buque was still as forgotten and forsaken by their more punitive brother clans.

_"There will always be sins and injustice. Retribution will always be sought. In what form?"_ thought Alexey._ "Perhaps I was too harsh, allowing Le Buque to live..."_

"Um...Sir? Are you alright?" asked a Le Buque young girl who was passing by. She seemed to be around twelve, a little older than Morgan's age. She had reached the point when she was about to grow. Brown haired and brown eyed, she wore the modest clothing of traditional Le Buque costume with wrists and ankles exposed.

Alexey blinked, returning from reminiscing. "Yes. I am alright," he said, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. Le Buque people were typically dark haired with dark eyes. Shy and modest, the Le Buque people rarely gave into overt offense. The woman wore similar clothing as the men to avoid revealing skin. Here he was, with pale blue eyes and pale blonde hair. His companion was probably the opposite of what Le Buque people considered a respectable woman. Then it occurred to him that Jeane had somehow disappeared on him.

Alexey frowned sightly. That woman should not utilize her charm rune so often. At the gate house, he had to present the papers that explained his relation to Harmonia. He had opted to be a magician taught in the Crystal Valley Academy. A mage who had been away to hone his skills, now returning to offer service to the Temples. The gate house guard harassed him a little, asking him extraneous questions. Alexey was patted down for any sharp weaponry. They did take his answers at face value since most people considered pure mages as somewhat not right in the head. As for Jeane, she never had to say a word. She smiled and passed right by. No one questioned her, they were all too mesmerized by the mysterious and breath-takingly beautiful Rune Mistress as if they had been captivated by a miracle.

Something was decidedly unfair about that.

"Have you seen a white-haired woman around here?" asked Alexey of the girl once he gathered his thoughts together. "She is about this tall," he raised his hand, "Wears black, has her hair up in a ponytail."

"Um..." the girl seemed to think for a minute. "You mean that pretty new lady?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Then I think I saw her around the Weapon shop two tiers up east of here."

"Thank you," said Alexey. "By the way. What is your name?"

"Michelle."

_Hum...Harmonian name..._"Well. Thank you very much Michelle," said Alexey.

"You're welcome sir," returned Michelle. She went on her own merry way.

"Now if I only remember where the Weapon shop is," muttered Alexey to himself. It had been a long time since he truly knew his way around Le Buque. He once lived here, with his own nest and his own Mentor Insect. He preferred Le Buque because the people were always polite, rarely giving into the disdained starring. That and he found traveling by Mentor easier than teleporting all over the place.

On the way there, he bypassed many other Harmonians, mostly magicians and some, definitely higher ranked Temple Guards in disguise as common soldiers. Some of them give him quizzical looks, seeing that his garb was Harmonian but his cloak had a distinctive foreign design. Some stared at him, trying to puzzle out the awkward un-Harmonian feature about him. He was a blue eyed blonde, with a roundness that was not typical to the Crystal Valley First-Class-Citizen stock. Some just ignored him, seeing that he was not about to cause any trouble. Ultimately, every one who entered the traditional schooling were taught rudimentary manners that told them all to be more tolerant of the personal practices of others. Inequality existed for natural advancement and smooth assimilation of the conquered, or at least that was the theory.

The numbers of Harmonian soldiers did concern Alexey. He had never seen so many of the regulars here in one town. There had to be a six-hundred strong battalion of mixed Temple Guards and magicians. The Temple Guards were typically assigned to special missions. The Magicians usually moved as support for the regular army. Why were they here?

"Hey, did you hear?" a conversation drifted into Alexey's ears. "Lord Alexander has returned from the dead."

"Of course I did! Why did you think I attended the sabbath?"

"Really? You actually believe in his resurrection? That he came back to take Lord Sasarai with him?"

"I don't think he's here to take Sasarai away. He is the Healer Bishop."

"But that was what Lord Gabriel said. That Alexander is the reaper of souls."

At that, Alexey rolled his eyes and treaded on, ignoring the rest of the conversation. His mission here was not to dwell on the opinions of the people. Responsibility when driven by conscience, was the most noisome burden one could have. He did observe how the Le Buque people reacted to him.

The Le Buque all went by their own way, their wide-brimmed hats keeping their eyes hidden from view. They were probably staring at him too, though Alexey was less concerned about that. Le Buque people's daily tasks kept them from furthering their curiosity.

Eventually, Alexey arrived at the eastern most part of the town. He ignored the furtive and almost guilty staring. There was obvious fear in their eyes, a nervousness that belonged to a child who was afraid of getting caught with stealing. A faint brush of their minds told him of anxiety, an unease in concern for social injustice.

"Stupid kid!" cried some harsh sounding man. "How dare you!"

Alexey's attention was immediately turned to the speaker.

The speaker was near the front of the weapon's shop. He recognized the speaker as Harmonian. The crisp, elegant, and snobbish accent was there, along with the stereotypical blonde hair and blue eyes. A quick glance at the uniform and pins identified his rank as a colonel of a battalion.

"I'm sorry mister!" apologized the boy. He looked to be seven, short and scrawny. He had some disheveled brown hair and terrified brown eyes. "I did not mean it, I swear!"

The Colonel, perhaps more irritated than usual, reached over and punched the boy squarely in the chest. The boy flew backward toward the ledge, stopping just in time to avoid a long fall.

"That will teach you not to steal!" spat the captain. He shook his change purse as if to demonstrate his point.

Alexey frowned, disconcerted that someone of rank could dare be so blatantly hostile in a place that is full of Third-Class Citizens. If caught by a superior, the Colonel would be quickly stripped of all titles and responsibilities. Such temper towards citizens, no matter the class, was condemned. He looked to the few other Harmonians, many of them frowning at the disturbance.

_Well...I am technically his superior_...Slowly, a bemused look danced upon Alexey's face. He was rather interested in the results of this one confrontation. _And that Colonel would not survive if he pissed off the entire town. _

The commotion caught the attention of many people. Many of the Le Buque men looked ready to defend one of their own, but their fear of worse treatment halted their immediate compulsion. There were some other Harmonian soldiers garrisoned in the town.

A middle aged woman who was shopping at a fruit stand not too far away had dropped her newly purchased basket of apples. From the similarities between her features and the boy, one could only discern that the woman was the boy's mother.

"Get up!" gruffed the Colonel. He walked over to the ledge and kicked the boy.

The child rolled over, accidentally hitting his head on the cold solid cable anchors. "Oww..."

The Le Buque watchers winced, some tried to move toward the boy, but fear of Harmonian retaliation was stronger than the desire to help.

"I said, Get up!" The Colonel kicked the boy again, almost rolling him over the edge. He was about to kick the child again when an all too familiar sultry voice spoke.

"Oh, come on, sweet. Don't be so angry. It's just some change."

It seemed that Michelle had guessed correctly where Alexey's companion had fluttered to.

Alexey frowned again. Nothing good could come from this. Jeane had never directly stopped a conflict.

The Colonel's eyes immediately looked at Jeane up and down. Even with her shroud concealing her face, the rest of her womanly curves were easily discernible.

"Just some change?" echoed the Colonel, eyes furtively darting to her chest. "You don't understand milady. These Le Buque trash must be taught!" At his declaration, he reached down and dragged the boy to his feet.

"No" sang Jeane. Her hand shot out like a snake and hooked the Colonel neck. She pulled him close and spoke lovingly into his ears. "If you want to punish someone for stealing..hehe..." Jeane clearly pointed to Alexey. "You should punish him."

"Him?" The Colonel looked down, past two tiers of platforms, only to see another Harmonian brat who probably had not even finished puberty yet. His vision became focused there, failing to pick up the Harmonian who was gazing towards him with cold eyes that contained the irritation of a thousand years. "What did he do?"

"Some of the greatest thefts in Harmonian history," she whispered into his ears, like a child telling naughty secrets to another. "He stole three of the five Elemental True Runes from Harmonia...hahahha.."

The Colonel narrowed his eyes at Jeane as if she was some recently escape patient from a nut house. "...What?"

Despite the vertical distance between them, Alexey had heard everything and he had had enough with Jeane's antics. He made a walking motion as his entire being flashed hot white. He appeared next to the Colonel, surprising not just the man, but the entire crowd.

"Excuse my companion, good sir," said Alexey in a deadpan voice, with a thick and even more obvious Harmonian accent. He glared at Jeane, wishing that she could wipe that smirk off those full red lips. "Do not take her words too seriously. She is a little off in the head, prone to lying and ceaseless flirting. "

"Oh no. I'm speaking the truth," said Jeane. "It is all in the delivery whether I want you to believe me or not." She looked at Alexey meaningfully "Don't you agree?"

"No Jeane. I do not agree with you at all," he said evenly. "Truth is always subjective."

Meanwhile, the boy, who thought that he was forgotten, tried to crawl away. The woman who dropped her apples made discernible motions for him to come to her.

"Come back here!" The Colonel was not done with the child yet. He chased after the child, fully intending to give the boy another beating before dealing with the two wackos. They ran a good four yards.

"No," growled Alexey in irritation. He teleported again, appearing in the small distance between the Colonel and the boy. "Stop."

"Get out of my way, wretch!"

Alexey gave him a constrained look. "Do I even look like I am going to get out of your way?"

"Why you...!" The Colonel's hand balled up into a hard fist. He threw a punch, aiming for the young man's face.

Like a fan in slow motion, Alexey's body seemed to flow sideways as he caught the punch. He directed the punch to the side and grabbed at the weaker wrist. Then with the speed of a whip crack, Alexey brought in his other elbow fluidly and bent the Colonel's arm backwards then pulled the man close to him, preventing the man from moving.

They were slightly ridiculous, as Alexey was a head shorter and physically smaller than the Colonel. Alexey's grip however, was unrelenting, tighter than a hangman's noose. For a moment, the Colonel was afraid. He saw a faint dark red glow about him, lingering about him like the bloody trails of Death, taking him to the ultimate judgment of his soul.

"You will stop this," Alexey whispered into the Colonel's ear. "This is Le Buque, a Third-Class Citizen town. Do not embarrass Holy Harmonia in front of mere dogs."

The Colonel felt the sudden release, and he struggled away.

Jeane laughed gaily. She paced over to Alexey and hung herself on him most casually. She ruffled his hair fondly. "Ah...don't like changing the status-quo?"

Alexey closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Jeane, Just be silent," he said sternly.

"Hum...behold..." Jeane only grinned and gave Alexey a careless kiss on his cheeks. Afterwards, she disengaged herself from him and walked away, looking for the boy.

Alexey turned his attention to the Colonel again. His lips pursed in one straight line. The first offense was the most critical offense. The reprimand would ultimately decide future proper reaction.

"Who are you?" asked the Colonel, furrowing his brows. His previous aggressiveness was gone. Military education taught a demanding wariness of mages. "You're a magician, a powerful one. That much I can see."

Alexey shrugged. "I am just someone who used to serve the One Temple, that's all."

With that, he walked away. He no longer wanted to stay there and wait for the colonel's response. Jeane had just found someone useful.

--------------------------------------------------------

The woman who dropped her apples earlier was more than relieved when her son came back with only scratches. She kissed him on his cheek, his nose, and his hair.

The boy was more than embarrassed. He turned deep red, feeling more self-conscious than being caught for stealing. He was about to speak when he felt a deep pain on his cheek.

Smack!

"Don't you ever do that again!" the mother cried. expressing her furious stage. Everyone knew it was wrong to steal, even if they were near starving from the rigorous taxes Harmonia imposed upon Third-Class Citizens.

The boy rubbed his red hot cheek. Mom's slap rarely hurt. No, her disdain hurt more. "Sorry mum," he apologized.

The mother sighed deeply. "Well. Everything is alright now. I want you to go say thank you to the nice lady," said the mother, turning her head and gently pushing her son toward the woman. "Thank you...Jeane?"

"You're welcome, Iku," said Jeane, sporting her usual fairy smile. She still remembered the meek Le Buque woman from years ago. "Who is this darling boy of yours?"

"Oh! I am Xavier of the Carna people," said the boy, introducing himself. He held out his hand for a handshake.

Jeane's long delicate fingers just took the boy's hand when another voice spoke.

"Carna. Now that is an identification that I haven't heard in a while."

Jeane's eyes curved into half moons. "And this is..."

"Alexander of Crystal Valley," introduced Alexey. His eyes were on Xavier then Iku, though he seemed to be staring past them rather than at them. "I apologize for my countryman's behavior. He will be reprimanded."

"Well, thank you," said Iku, giving a deep bow. Harmonian or not, respect and thankfulness will reward one as thus.

"As long as we are here," said Alexey, "do you know of anyone who can take us into the Insect Handler's Altar?"

Iku furrowed her brows. "The Altar? Why? The place is very dangerous."

"Yes!" agreed Xavier. "The place has been infested with monsters from another world since that war ten years ago."

"That is exactly the reason why I must tend to the altar."

----------------------------

Suikorin


	13. Spelunk

AN: I've stared at this so long it made me want to choke. sigh

Oh Julian and Alexey are the SAME person. SO yeah.

Chapter 11: Spelunk

------------------------------------

"Hey Boss," called Ace. He was a man with a few strands of gray hair and wielded the sai. He was a mercenary of the most ordinary kind: incredibly rude at times, excitable over the little details and always ready to enjoy the pleasure of a good woman's company. "Are you sure this is alright to enter? Didn't they forbid trespassers or something?"

Geddoe, a tall man with an unsmiling demeanor, roughish black hair and an eye patch, said nothing. He stared straight into the entrance of the Insect Handler's Altar and frowned deeply. He was the Captain of the Twelfth Unit of the Southern Harmonia Frontier Defense Force, one of the many mercenaries hired to take on the jobs that did not fit the regular army.

"Since when did you care about some sign?" asked Joker, the Unit's magician.

They were at the entrance of the Insect Handler's Altar, a holy place of the Le Buque people. It was a shrine imbedded deep within the cave. Legend had it that the First Flame Champion used to hold his daily meditation here, speaking to the spirits for divine guidance. The paths to the shrine at the very end were narrow pieces of earth that were plastered to the side of the cavern. Beside those was the deep chasm that stretched from the entrance of the cave to the shrine platform at the end. It was said that the chasm was so deep that if one fell, the body could never be found.

Geddoe and his team had been to this cavern before, during their missions to Le Buque in the Second Fire Bringer War. The entrance looked innocent enough, quiet with well maintained wooden pathways and the constant lulling sound of the wind. However, since the investigation by the Mad Bishop Luc, the shrine had progressively become more and more dangerous as monsters from the Nether World, a place of so called Emptiness, came to inhabit the caverns. Ordinary people did not dare enter anymore. Adventurers found the place either challenging or terrifying. At some point, either the Grassland tribe or Holy Harmonia attempted to use the cave as a training test ground for their soldiers and magicians. Since then, few people ever came out of the cave alive, so the Le Buque governor chained a forbidden tablet to the entrance in an effort to discourage anyone with a sense of adventure.

Now, it was different. It was not the same as the monsters, but something else. Something coated the cavern walls with ice, and the very air crackled with electricity and moisture. Geddoe moved on, walking past the wooden signed that said. "Forbidden Territory."

"This place...it feels oppressive," said Queen, suppressing a shiver. She was a woman in her forties but looked very much in her thirties. "Like there are ghosts in here."

Aila, a beautiful dark-skinned Karaya woman shivered also. "There's definitely something in there. An ancient thing..."

"It's probably just ghosts," said Ace.

"Shut up!" said Queen, feeling nervous all the same. She had fought giant crabs, slaughtered creatures from the Emptiness World, and participated in a multi-nation war. Ghosts however, were something much different. They were nearly impossible to hurt by sword.

"Awww...are the girlies afraid of ghosts?" teased Joker.

That earned an immediate rebuke in the form of a strung arrow pressed against his nose. "I am NOT afraid of ghosts!"

"Hey hey hey," said Joker in quick succession. He raised his hands, palms flat out. "I am not saying that you are afraid of ghosts. I said the girls. The girls."

Aila took that at face value. As much of a tomboy as she was, Joker had something of a point there.

As the group traveled further into the caves, something about them started to become wearisome. The place had a foreign feeling, completely different from before. There was an absence, a sense of concealment that threatened to take away breath.

"Woooo"

"AHH!" Queen jumped.

"Wahahaha," laughed Ace, doubling over laughing. "You should've seen the look on your face!"

Queen took that moment to stamp really hard on the man's left foot.

"Ouch!" Ace hopped around frantically, holding his throbbing foot.

"Serves you right," retorted Aila.

"They're leaving without us," observed Joker.

He was right. Two of their six member mercenary group had already proceeded ahead into the cave. Geddoe had always been the first to enter, leaving his team behind to catch up. Jacque had disappeared sometime ago as usual, but everyone knew the reliable sharpshooter would show up at the most crucial moment.

The six member mercenary group ambled their way inside the cavern of the Insect Handler's Altar.

The entire cavern was unlit and it took them a few minutes to adjust to the darkness. The one source of natural light at the entrance was dimmed by a brewing storm. Further inside, it was just as dark, so Joker lit a hand torch.

"So, why are we here anyways?" asked Queen. "Are we even getting paid?"

"Hell yeah," said Ace. "Headquarters offered a hefty sum for the capture, live or dead, of the quack who's posing as a bishop."

"Do we even know what he looks like?" asked Aila.

"It's all here," said Ace, pulling out a folded poster. He unfolded the piece of paper and held it taught for the three others to see. The poster showed an unsmiling face of someone with short blonde hair and blue eyes.

"It's a nice face," commented Queen while frowning. "But isn't he a little young?"

"Yes," agree Aila, furrowing her brows. "And he looks like any normal person. Does he even have a name?"

That was true, since the hair style was something of a haphazard cut, trimmed to about an inch and allowed to fall as it wished. Quite the normal looking fellow who had pleasing but forgettable features.

"And how do we know he is here?" asked Aila, slightly puzzled.

"Dunno. Geddoe says he is here," answered Ace. "All we need to do is to bring him back to headquarters for positive identification."

"Geddoe knows he's here? How?"

They looked toward the Captain of the Twelfth Unit. Geddoe was a particular man who was more than he seemed. He was the Bearer of True Lightning, as the few people who knew the enormity of the Rune on his right hand would call him.

The group of five motley mercenaries proceeded deeper and deeper into the cave. They bantered amongst themselves, often jabbing at each other's bad habits. Queen used too much potch for her beauty treatments. Aila drank too much soda. Ace and Joker enjoyed their alcohol and waste money on women too much too often. The cave echoed with their raucous insults and gay laughter. For them this was just another job, something to pay for the inn fee and food bills. Even better, this job was to retrieve one person, live or dead, one of the easiest jobs of all.

"What's this?" asked Aila, stopping suddenly.

They were half way to the altar when Aila noticed runic symbols glowing on the walls. The squiggly letters pulsated and emanated a mixture of colors. Ace, Queen, and Joker stopped too. The glowing made the walls seemed like a jewel-studded cavern, illuminating the place without the torches.

Aila innocently reached over to touch the symbols only to retract her finger in a shocked jerk.

"It's so cold!" exclaimed Aila. She examined her finger and found some ice on the tips.

"Careful," said Joker, frowning. He noticed the symbols some time ago but did not make a comment on it. He held out a hand toward the symbols, careful not to touch them. "It's subtle but serious magic."

"How can you tell?" asked Aila.

"I heard about this when I was studying under Master Jarius," said Joker. "One of the philosophies in magic is that passive effects are the most potent. Someone wrote all these runes on the wall, imbued it with their own magic with the mind to use them later." Joker looked down the lit cavern. "That someone is using it now."

"Who would do that?" mused Queen. "To cover this entire cavern would take months, even years."

"Who knows," answered Joker.

"Um...has anyone noticed that we haven't seen a living thing yet?" reminded Ace.

Everyone, Ace, Queen, Aila and Joker looked at each other. Ace was right. They had yet to encounter a Ghost Armor or Armored Knight since they entered the caves. There was a mournful, dead feeling about the place. It felt as if nothing was ever alive.

"Hey! Boss! Don't leave us behind!" cried Ace, noticing that Geddoe had already gone ahead.

Everyone ran to catch up. As they descended deeper and deeper inside, this time, they stayed within three feet of each other.

"Stop," said Geddoe suddenly.

They were only paces away from the altar. Soft murmurings, like the religious chanting, drifted in from the distance near the platform of the altar. The ground had started to glow in the strange runic symbols.

"What's going on?" whispered Queen to no one in particular.

They advanced further until they reached the platform and found an outcropping of rock to hide behind.

The altar was a simple looking structure. A rough carved out hollow little place with a decorative stand for a special item. Yearlong neglect had allowed cracks to settle in the fine stone structure. The thin layer of paint was peeling off. The columns that lead up to the forgotten shrine had several crevices snaking around its once decorative flouts. In front of this ill-maintained altar were three people.

One of them was a child with brown hair and typical costume of Le Buque. He was holding two large cloaks for the two adults next to him. Over his eyes was a blindfold.

"Are they holding him as hostage?" asked Aila, concerned.

"Shhh. Let's watch."

One of the adults was a tall slender woman. Her white arms were scandalously bare and her white hair was loose, flowing down to her waist. Her arms were held out at an angle to her body, one hand clutching a finely carved staff. The staff glowed brighter than ten torches combined, illuminating the altar. She chanted in a deep sultry voice, in union with the other.

The other was slightly shorter. His less-than bulky shoulders gave the impression of someone who had just reached adulthood. He too held his arms out, but it was the rings on his fingers that glowed with the same intensity as the staff held by the woman.

Right on the altar were five glowing jewels. They pulsated with the same frequency as the ring and staff. The staff, rings, and the gems glowed brighter and brighter. The entire cavern was lit as bright as the sun, almost too bright to keep one's eyes open.

"What the hell..." Everyone hid as well as they could behind the outcropping.

When the blinding light passed, the chanting still continued, though much muted. On the altar, the five jewels gave one last blink before turning dull as ordinary stone.

"Are we almost done? My arms are sore," complained the woman with a familiar voice, in between the chanting.

"Keep on going," said the other with a voice that evidentially belonged to a young man. "We will finish soon."

Geddoe gave a deep frown at the voice. He knew that person from somewhere. He knew it.

The young let down his arm and took a deep breath. He flexed his finger experimentally. "Xavier," he called.

The little boy whose was named Xavier turned. "Yes?"

"You may take off your blindfold," he said. "Go up to the altar and take all the jewels except the ruby. Hold them with the cloak then eturn them to me."

"Yes, your Holiness" said Xavier. He pulled off his blindfold and tucked it carefully into his pocket. He then paced up to the altar, carefully picked out the color specified gems with the cloaks. "Here you go, your Holiness" he offered with both hands.

"Thank you," the man answered politely. "Now step back, go near the altar." The man took back the cloaks as the boy slowly stepped closer to the altar. Carefully, he fished out the two jewels, a sapphire and a jade sphere. They glowed excitedly in his hand, as if revived from such close proximity. Pursing his lips into a straight line, he snapped them into metal holding wires and slipped them onto his own earlobes. "Here Jeane," he said, throwing two impossibly small drops. "Wear these."

Jeane ended her chanting on a soft whisper. She turned in time to catch the pair of jewelry. She looked down on the two earrings and her eyes narrowed delightedly. "You owe me," she said as she dangled the ornaments onto her own earlobes.

"No," he said in pert disagreement. "It's about time you got off your lazy ass and did something direct."

At that, Geddoe cursed. "Julian..."

Without warning, he burst onto the platform. His sword slid out of his scabber swiftly without a sound, pointing straight at Julian. A blast of lightning energy flew toward the youth.

The young man reacted just in time and fell sideways to avoid a complete stomach skewering. One hand deflected the ball of electricity to a platform, shattering the supports and isolating the two. He kicked his feet out, catching Geddoe's ankle and pulled hard.

Geddoe fell, but rolled to stave off the impact. He immediately gained his balance, his sword in front of him, ready to attack.

Aila, Joker, Ace and Queen all rushed into the altar, brandishing their weapons. They stood in front, ready for any assault despite the crevice that had from between them and their captain. Jeane only stepped aside, the same amused look on her face.

Alexey frowned faintly. He looked down to his side and sighed in annoyance. He had dodged too late, allowing a shallow cut through his thick outer garment and into his side.

"You know Geddoe, unwarranted attacks are very irritating," he said while taking out a small paper pack. He opened up the pack and dumped a little bit of herbal medicine and rubbed some on his side. "Next time, try to actually skewer me...and aim a little higher, the closer to the heart the better. Don't waste your strength on blows that aren't mortal to your enemies."

"Boss," called Ace. "You know this person?" He, like the others, had noticed that this person was their bounty.

Geddoe ignored Ace's question. He held up his sword. "Still alive, Julian?" He narrowed his eyes. "I can still recognize you, despite your change in looks."

Alexey was completely calm. "Hum...Julian. Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long while. Pray tell, what gave it away?"

"A sniveling pleasure, scum," answered Geddoe.

At that Alexey smiled. "Figures. Predictable and untrustworthy to the end."

"As you are," stated Geddoe.

"Oh no. I'm untrustworthy, but hardly predictable."

"Wait, who are you?" asked Aila.

"This is his Holiness, Archbishop Alexander," proclaimed Xavier. "Show him his due respects!"

"Hush Xavier," said Alexey. "Geddoe and I are old friends. Rank means nothing to us."

"But Bishop!" argued Xavier.

"That is enough," said Alexey sternly, like a father remonstrating a child. "You must treat everyone the same despite standing. I am certain that your mother has taught you the same."

"Friends?" scoffed Geddoe. He raised his sword, pointing straight at Alexey. "Friends don't take your eye."

"It's only one eye, Geddoe," countered Alexey with a negligent air. "You still have the other."

"Then let me return the favor."

With an enraged yell, the Captain of the Twelfth Unit lunged. Sword met sword, red sparks flew and the clanging echoed through the cavern. Xavier ran to the side, hiding himself in a conclave inside, well away from the battle. Geddoe shifted his greater mass in his own favor, bearing down upon the slighter man. He utilized clever swordplay, forcing the other to block without a chance to counterattack.

The 12th unit stood amazed for only a moment. Geddoe had never displayed rash aggression. Then they all brandished their weapons, ready to join in the fight.

"And where do you think you're going?" sang Jeane. She steadily paced in front of them, her staff glowing an ominous red. Her eyes were in merry half moon shapes. "You shouldn't be fighting the First Class Magician of the First Fire Bringer War. He's not supposed to get all the fun."

"No! You step aside," said Aila, pulling her arrow taut. "Jeane, you may be our comrade in war, but I will shoot you if you stand in our way!"

Jeane laughed. "Threatening me with a tiny little tooth pick?" Lightning sparked around her staff and a tangled ball of hot energy shot toward Aila.

Aila rolled out of the way as fast as possible. The very edge of the ball singed her hair and crashed into a column. The cavern rumbled, threatening to crumble on its own.

Ace and Joker acted quickly. Joker went first, setting off a fireball at Jeane. Ace followed suite, slashing wildly at the grinning sorceress. A slight whisper of the lips and fancy staff spinning moves blocked both attacks.

Queen charged, aiming to disable their former ally. She brought her sword down, only to be parried by the swing of the crystal staff. In her moment of recoil, a sensation akin to electrocution rambled through her body and she suddenly flew backward.

"Who...What are you?" asked Queen.

Jeane was bemused. "Don't you ever wonder why I never bothered running errands for the Fire Bringers, but was begged as support during war campaigns?" She twirled her staff into her left hand expertly. "You can only live so long before boredom overtakes you...but..." Her staff glowed again, and a sphere of lightning the size of a man began its incipient form. Jeane laughed and her person seemed to change. She was no long the mysterious rune mistress, but a master war mage busting at the seam with offensive magic. "You command my interest!"

She let off the man-sized electricity globe that shot faster than a diving falcon toward the other four mercenaries. Her eyes narrowed into ecstatic pleasure as certain hurt headed toward the group.

Out of nowhere, an arrow flew straight for the globe. The arrow of light pierced the ball of electricity. The ball split into halves then shattered into harmless little pieces, slamming the other four mercenaries in a myriad of numbing but harmless static.

"Jacque!" cried Joker.

From an unseen ledge somewhere above the altar, a man in his thirties with pale blonde hair and sky-blue coat jumped down. In his hands was a body-length crossbow. He drew a glowing bolt and set his finger on the trigger switch.

Jeane's eyes smoldered and her lips twisted into the first frown since anyone had known her. "So...the rune blood hound shows up. Do you dare to draw against me?"

"Yes," said Jacque in his eerily calm way, positioning his bow toward the charm rune.

"I can easily destroy you," said Jeane, smiling, another ball of energy swarm growing. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Perhaps," said Jacque. The glowing bolt flared into an angry red and flew.

Jeane's smile disappeared as she gritted her teeth and hurled the giant globe of energy.

Further off, the swords of the two combatants slid steely over each other, grinding until they locked at the very hilt, neither gaining an advantage. They were locked in a duel of strength. Two seconds later, Geddoe's sword glowed and a lightning arc flew toward Alexey.

Alexey raised a left hand, nitrifying the magic attack like snuffing out a candle. "Primary level spells?" asked Alexey, twisting his sword and breaking off their deadlock.. "I taught you the rudiments of True Rune Magic, Geddoe." There was no arrogance in his voice but the pedantic reminder of a teacher who had caught a pupil in error. "Try again."

This time, a larger and more intense lightning flickered about Geddoe and transferred all the energy to his sword. In less than a moment, Geddoe swung his sword and the bolt of energy flew and shocked Alexey until he sizzled and smelled of burnt clothes. Before waiting for a reaction, Geddoe closed the space between them and punched the man hard in the gut then the face.

Alexey stumbled backwards; his head drooped as if suddenly weak.

Geddoe's expression was unreadable. He had never expected Julian to be a fighter, but he did not underestimate him either. Julian had proven to be a man of many surprising talents, as his enemies and allies had learned the hard way. With that in mind, Geddoe cautiously pointed a sword at the other man's throat then tipped the chin upward.

"Theatrics," observed Geddoe as he observed the solemn expression on the young man's face; unblinking whitish blue eyes emotionless even as Geddoe's sword nicked his chin deep.

"You've improved," said Alexey coolly. "Congratulations. At least you've stopped fighting like you have a blind-side, and your control over expression is excellent."

"And you are an adept swordsman, more than adept."

"Correct," agreed Alexey. He suddenly brought down his sword and twirled Geddoe's sword away from his chin. "First of my class of the Geien Knights, dueled and defeated my own commander around age fifteen."

"Around fifteen?" Geddoe took control of his sword almost just as fast. "Was that even your real age?"

"Plus or minus a year or two," said Alexey, taking on a defensive stand, keeping his sword in front of him. "But we're not discussing age, are we? I'm sure you don't want to admit that you're one-hundred-twenty-two."

Geddoe charged again. Their swords met again, sparks flew from contact. Both kept their neutral expression as they attempted to over power the other.

"How did you loose to Wyatt?" asked Geddoe, breaking off their stalemate and thrusting toward Alexey's eye.

"Because he was good," said Alexey, steeping back even as the blade scraped his eyelid. Blood trickled into his eye, though he seemed unbothered by the sting. "And because Julian is only a mage."

Geddoe narrowed his eyes. "What games are you playing Julian?"

"Games? I never play games," said Alexey. He suddenly brought his sword up and charged. With untenable speed, Alexey quickly rushed forward. He deflected two blocks before plunging his sword into Geddoe's lower right chest. "And my name is not Julian. It's Alexander if you want to look for me again." Alexey stepped back, allowing the impaled man to slide off his sword. "Stay out of my way, Geddoe. You make your destiny and I make mine."

On the other surface near the altar, another explosion rocked the cavern. Without turning his head, Alexey concentrated and his left hand glowed. A faint green shield covered all important entities, including the altar. Less than a moment later, the aftershock of a ultrasonic blast expanded in a wave from Jeane outward, mowing down nearly all those near her.

Jacque was on his knees; his typical blank expression still had not changed. He pulled another bolt from a hidden quiver, one that glowed even more menacingly than before.

Jeane staggered back slightly, an arrow seated deep her thigh. She looked down to the bloodless protruding arrow and looked up again. "That was mighty naughty of you," she said, a dreamy smile on her face, though she was turning ashy. "An imbued arrow. Haha...I need to make a bigger firework!"

"No!" commanded Alexey from the opposite platform. He turned and became hot white, teleporting next to Jeane, pulling her backwards by the hair. "We are going before you kill off someone I need for later."

Jeane pouted, though she seemed like she was about to go into a laughing fit. "Someone you need? They can easily be replaced."

Alexey rolled his eyes as he stepped up and pulled the arrow from Jeane's leg. Once the arrow was out of the flesh, the arrow ostentatiously turned into dust.

At that Jeane stopped pouting and looked at the palm that formerly had the arrow. "That should not have happened," she said. "Not the things you touch."

"Geddoe had and has always brought out the worse in me," said Alexey, pressing a left hand over his cut eyelid. Once he removed the hand, the cut had healed itself perfectly without a trace of former cut. Pale eyes turned completely white for only a moment.

"What is it?" asked Jeane.

"We need to leave now," said Alexey quickly. "They're here."

"Who?" asked Jeane.

"The rest of the blood hounds," said Alexey, turning toward Jacque. "Should've reported earlier."

"Criticism noted," said Jacque blandly, standing up and disengaging the glowing bolt. "You **will **reward the Twelfth Unit." It was not a request.

Snorting, Alexey fished out a ring and flicked it toward Jacque. The other caught the ring expertly. "Show it to the morons at headquarters and ask to be seen by the patron. Tell that nimrod that if he rewards you well and behaves. I might kill him instead."

"Mercy, for betryal of you?" asked Jacque, glacing down at the ring. It was a platinum ring with a dark blue, almost black, gem in the middle.

"There is only one type of betryal," said Alexey. "And that is against Harmonia. He had wisely avoided such damnable act...so far."

With those last words, both Jeane and Alexey turned blindingly white and teleported away.


	14. Chapter 13

AN: So where have I been? Hiding under a damp rock in the middle of nowhere.

Honestly.

Someone 13

Morgan chewed on her pencil, reading a text about deer hunting.

She was outside, underneath an apple tree with the songs of birds and insects all around her. She sat on a branch, her feet free of the odious red shoes the cobbler kept on putting on her. The sun was bright outside, shining down upon the free-hands rushing around for the very last of the preparations for the night time celebration. Honored guests, pompous asses, respected delegates and all of the more important people near Zexen were gathered at a special luncheon. There were some light sandwiches, silky gelatin, imported wine, and of course, beer on tap.

Normally, Morgan would feel the need to go mingle with the people. There was Lady Chris looking divine like the Goddess Sadi. Uncle Leo and Roland brought their children along, children who were near Morgan's age. Uncle Salome was there too, entertaining some of Miss Nina's retainers. Some of the squires, like Melville, Cassidy and Wesly bedazzled the crowds with the fruition of their privileged training. Even Lotty dressed up in a proper outfit. Morgan dreamed of being a knight and basking in the presence of princes and princesses; she would like nothing more to go watch like everyone else.

Morgan could not do as she pleased though. Papa's anger against her for picking fights did not seem to diminish in the last day so she was trying her hardest to avoid him. Then there was PJ, who seemed to have a vendetta against her. He had gone out of his way to annoy her. The bucket of flour over the door trick got him in hot water and another bruise on his head. Morgan still owed him another bruise for smearing her hand with cream while she was asleep then tickling her nose. Plotting her revenge took quality time though, and she knew better than to get caught.

"Hey Mud-face," said PJ the snot-nosed farm boy.

"Hello Pee of Jackasses," replied the snob Morgan in kind.

There was a refined amount of negative energy between the two as PJ came closer and closer.

"What are you doing?" PJ asked. "The party is back there!" He motioned with his ex-broken arm toward the general direction of the house.

"What do you care?" responded Morgan. "It's not like you want me to have fun."

PJ growled, almost forgetting his reason for coming all the way out here. He actually felt a little sorry for her, being picked on by no one other than himself and she was the one who got into trouble. Besides, it was boring here with Leo's serious children and Roland's timid elflings. There were other children, of course, but all of them were councilman's droll brats. He would rather roll in the mud with someone, which none of the city snobs would do. Morgan seemed like the only good sport around here, even if Pops told him that the snobby girl was off limits. "Lady Chris told me to come get you," he said as the excuse. Lying was easy when he had little sisters to practice it on.

"I don't believe you," said Morgan sweetly, perhaps seeing through the ruse.

"Just get your butt over there!" commanded PJ, his patience already going down.

"No! Stupid peasant boy!" yelled Morgan in contempt. It was that ass who landed her in solitary study.

PJ grabbed Morgan by the arm. "You spoiled brat! Yes you are coming!"

"Don't touch me!" yelled Morgan, trying to wiggle away.

"I'm bigger than you are," stated PJ, "I'll make you come!"

Morgan seethed. "Really? Prove it!"

PJ gave the girl a forceful pull. Morgan resisted by attempting to punch him in the stomach. That started a wrangling of two hot headed children. Both of them were soon on the ground, struggling to see who could pin the other on the bottom. At first, PJ had the upper hand since he was bigger and older than her by a year. He was careful to avoid the girl's punches and fended off her sharp kicks as they rolled around in the dirt. Then, without warning, they came upon a sudden change in slope. PJ lost his footing and fell, taking the girl along with him. They rolled down like two intertwined tumbleweeds all the way down to a large bush of thorns.

"Ow!" cried Morgan as the inch long thorns cut past her pretty clothes and into her tender legs and arms. She winced but bit her lips so she didn't cry from the pain; after all, a lady knight maiden would never cry over such a stupid thing as a thorn prick.

PJ was stabbed by the thorns; his thick pants and shirt preventing many direct cuts. Fortunately for him, he landed on something soft.

And that something was glaring daggers into him. "Get off of me, you prick!" Morgan commanded through her teeth.

PJ scowled as much as a child like him could, but got off of her. He kept his head down and covered his bare neck with a hand then staggered backward to escape the bush.

Morgan was still in the bush, feeling indignant, embarrassed, and above all, mad. She struggled to get out of the thorn bush as fast as she could without cutting herself even more. Direct struggling out of the bush was out of the question. That meant she would need someone to pull some of the thorns aside.

"Well," Morgan uttered in her bossy voice, still laying there, remembering Ra's seemingly random lessons. "Don't just sit there! Help me out!"

"I'm coming!" said PJ, still scowling. He fumbled with his pockets and produced a small battle knife to hack away the thorns.

Finally, after about five minutes of struggling, the Morgan finally got herself away from the thorn bush. Once she felt that she had limped a good distance away from the thorns, she sat down and took a survey of her cuts.

PJ watched sullenly as Morgan began to pick out the short splinters in her exposed arms and legs. Some parts of her clothes looked like they went through the cheese grater. She grumbled all the while, and occasionally took a sharp breath when bumping into an embedded thorn. PJ knew he was in for it now; he would be shoveling manure with a spoon for the rest of his life. _She started it all,_ he reasoned.

"Why aren't you crying?" asked PJ suddenly. Normally, girls would cry even if they only fell on the ground. This girl never cried.

Morgan looked at him as if he was talking about the apocalypse. "What?"

"Girls cry, boys don't. My sisters cry even when I didn't do anything to them," said PJ matter-of-factly. Then he faked a horrified expression. "You aren't hiding any balls down there, are you?"

That earned PJ a smack on the cheeks that was harder than the ones his own mother could dish out.

"I **hate** you!" declared Morgan. "Just leave me alone!"

"Sure!" said PJ. Then irrationally, he stumped away.

That left Morgan by herself. She took in deep breaths, trying hard not to cry but still wanting to nonetheless. Ra left her alone with all these strangers. Lotty was busy elsewhere. The other children her age played mean pranks on her. Worst of all, Papa probably wanted to disown her for getting into so much trouble, for being all un-lady-like. All of a sudden, she felt like running away. Who cared about becoming a Lady Knight anyways? The only Lady Knight people ever took notice of was Lady Chris. Morgan knew she would be married off to some guildsman's ugly offspring someday so why should she bother having dreams?

She kept on picking out the thorns with those thoughts in her head. Thinking kept her mind off the pain. There were many deep splinters and a few bled. Morgan was not worried though since her younger days when she scuffed herself from climbing trees and falling down some of the stairs. In fact, this was not the first time she fell headlong into a bush of thorns. During those days, Virgil was far from sympathetic, her previous governess even less. Thus the blood hardly alarmed her. However, one of the cuts from a removed thorn in the inside of her arm refused to stop bleeding. Morgan put pressure on it, remembering another lesson from Ra.

After a few moments, Morgan was beginning to panic. The bleeding from that one cut did not want to stop. If she did not press hard, the wound bled and sometimes squirted. Morgan took in deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Her mind raced. She would have to go back into the manor and look for an adult.

Getting onto her feet, she felt extremely dizzy and her legs shook. Her vision was blotted by white spots and every object seemed to be blurred by a fine watermark. It was an almost psychedelic experience, to see the world softened by a phantom mist. For a brief moment, she wanted to sit back down until the dizziness passed. Then it came to mind that she really should get back. She was not about to let PJ get away without a suitable payback.

She stumbled to the manor, careful not to make herself too ostentatious or she might get into trouble again. She first looked for a random rag that looked somewhat clean and tied it tight just above the cut. Ra had specifically instructed that she must never use something that looked dirty on any wound. Just as she tidied the cut, she appealed to a random free-hand who happened by.

"Excuse me, your honor," she said, making sure to be polite. "Can you help me find a mender?"

The sweaty free-hand glared at the girl. "I don't recall Lord Redrum inviting ragamuffins."

Typically, that would have caused the man some amount of pain, but Morgan's head was hurting so badly that she could not think of a proper retort.

"Hey Lys!" yelled someone from a distance away. "Come help me with this!"

"Coming Onen." A furry fellow glared at the little girl. "What's an urchin doing here?"

"Probably to beg," snorted Lys. "Look at her! She doesn't even have shoes."

Both men went away, leaving Morgan shaking in both anger and weakness. _Lys and Onen_...she shall remember those names. She would tell on them and Papa would make them do women's laundry work for the squires at the Service Academy forever!

_Oh! I feel sleepy…_ thought Morgan, kneeling down again. Her limbs felt numb and she could only see a world of white. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she could hear it in her ears. The knot was not tight enough, and it started to bleed again.

"Someone help me!" she cried.

Some freemen turned, but Onen and Lys were there to tell them to get back to work.

"But Goodman Onen," said one of the young maids, concern written all over her face.

"It's only one of the orphans," said Lys, yawning. "Come on, we don't allow any lazy asses to come beg for hand out."

"Please! I need help!" she pleaded as she had so rarely done before. Then no one seemed to react to her. For once she could remember since she was very small, she cried in self pity.

Furry Onen, with his face full of bushy beard snorted. He picked up a stick, approaching the girl. "Get off Lord Redrum's property!"

Onen took a few steps toward the girl, fully intending to bash the girl off private grounds. As the stick went close to Morgan, she fell forward to her knees, her legs no longer capable of supporting her. She closed her eyes, unable to see anything. There was a strange roar in her ear that refused to go away.

Onen was about to take another swing when he was interrupted.

"Halt, men!" came a crisp order.

A fabulous lady wearing a conservative complete silver dress came quickly pacing over to the little girl. Her awesome presence emitted beauty, precision, authority and power. Even the blind could recognize her. Each spectator stopped their task, too memorized by the glowing Goddess in their midst.

Chris glared at the surrounding men, angered at the lack of charity among the people. Beside her, wearing a foreign dress was Nina. She wore a stoic face, finding the troubled child nothing more than a failure of society.

"Morgan!" called Chris, her arched white brows knotted in concern, her long gown fluttering along the floor.

"Lady Chris, can you help me find a mender?" she asked bravely, sniffing loudly.

"Never mind that," snapped Chris as her white silk gloved right hand glowed. The runic shape of a water well appeared before Morgan.

Morgan herself glowed also, in a purifying cool blue light. She could not help but hold out her hands, basking in awe of this healing aura. The cuts on her sealed, leaving no trace of injury. "Wow!" exclaimed Morgan happily, feeling suddenly better than ever before. She reached up and touched the fading runic shape of water well just above Lady Chris's hand "What is this? It looks like a water rune...but more powerful, like Ra's little shell thing on his left hand."

Lady Chris ignored the child's question. "Are you alright, Morgan?" she asked.

Morgan untied the clothes and examined the cut. Nothing was spurting out anymore. "Yes I am!"

"Then I am glad," said Chris. "Where is your father?"

"Papa? He's inside talking to big people," said Morgan, then she whispered. "Please don't tell him what happened. I think he's still mad at me."

Chris looked at the girl's embarrassed expression, and smiled. "I'm sure he isn't mad at you. In fact, he was looking for you."

"Oh really?" asked Morgan sweetly, her hands clasped together in happy anticipation. "Then I'll go find Papa now...after I go get PJ and those two meanies in trouble!" With that, she ran off as if nothing had gone wrong.

"Cute," said Nina simply. Her days spent in Vinay had allowed her to gradually say small phrases. Nina had remained just as stiff as the day she had arrived.

"She is, isn't she?" said Chris with pleasure. "So energetic, innocent and...happy."

Nina gave Chris a questioning stare.

Chris smiled almost bitterly. "You don't understand a word I say, do you? No matter. How I wish I could truly be a part of her life, but she doesn't seemed to be in want of a mother. I guess that was my folly, to give her away."

At that, Nina raised an eyebrow.

"Let's go back," said Chris, looking at Morgan's disappearing shadow, a faint disappointed look on her porcelain face. "The guildsmen are arriving."

--------------------------------------------------------

Alexey strapped the sac seat onto a wild Mentor. The large insect struggled momentarily, not used to having the disdained saddle on its back. It made ticking sounds of protest, and its scythe-like mandibles snapped at the human threateningly.

"Still," Alexey hissed a soft voice that carried a world of threats. Although it had been ages since he had ridden a mentor, he had not forgotten how to calm them.

The wild mentor shifted, allowing the sac saddle to settle snuggly on its back. It looked over to the hundreds of other mentors, chittering obediently to their masters. Beside their masters were elegantly dressed Temple Guards, soldiers who swore their allegiance and loyalty to the church. Those Temple Guards, wearing their fabulous blue, black and silver uniforms, were all solemn-faced. Ahead, at front was an imposing man of fine blonde hair and dark blue eyes whom Alexey recognized as the Colonel from before. Next to him was a dark haired Le Buque native. The two exchanged words, and from the looks of their expression, there seemed to be some disagreement.

"Excuse me," called Alexey to a nearby Temple Guard. "Who are those up front?"

The Temple Guard, a man named Thaddus, replied. "That's Lieutenant Colonel Silvesti and the Le Buque Governor Franz."

"I see. Where are we going?"

Thaddus gave him a look. "Were you asleep when they briefed us this morning?"

Alexey made a nervous smile, a little embarrassed. "I wasn't paying much attention and had to be shocked awake."

Thaddus laughed. "Ha. Don't worry about it. Silvesti is one of the worst orators in history; I was almost put to sleep too. Anyways, we are being summoned home, back to Crystal Valley for some mission." He dropped his voice. "They say that an assassin is plotting to kill off Bishop Mitchel and even the Priest General Sasarai."

"What?" exclaimed Alexey. "Assassination?"

"Yes, and keep your voice down. It's supposed to be a rumor," said Thaddus. "Personally, I don't care if Mitchel falls off the face of the earth. But Sasarai...I would do anything to protect Lord Sasarai."

"Why is that?" asked Alexey in a whisper also.

Thaddus looked critically at Alexey. "You're first-class, aren't you?"

Alexey looked down, nodded a bit shamefully. "Is it that obvious?"

"No. I'm just guessing in the dark. Anyways, I don't know how much Lord Sasarai appears to the first-class, but he had always been gentle to us lesser classes. In fact, I'm a Sanadian. We couldn't have been promoted to second-class without Lord Sasarai's help. Too bad he fell ill when they were doing the review on Le Buque..."

To that, Alexey said nothing more. He inwardly disapproved of such personal loyalty within the Temple Guards. They were supposed to be the sword and shield of the priesthood, upholding the integrity and teachings of the church…though the person of loyal target was most appropriate. Not only had Sasarai successfully survived the Harmonia political playground, he also infected the hearts of what was supposes to be the most disciplined of the Harmonian Military.

"More than one method to ensure your survival," murmured Alexey to himself, crossing his arms, calm settling over him again.

Since the return from the Insect Handler's Alter, Alexey had submerged himself into the ranks of the Temple Guards who were gathering here for the ride back to crystal Valley. Some guards raised eyebrows at this new stranger among their ranks though most shrugged this one off as one of the many faces in the crowd. Alexey, after all, was gifted with an everyday face. Without that characteristic red head-band he sported in his youth, his plain face became a forgettable one.

"Hello, my dear," purred Jeane who sauntered over next to Alexey. She wore a modified uniform of the Harmonian Temple Guards, with precise cuts in some of the most revealing places. Her charm rune happily glowed, as if trying to avoid too many questions. "What do you think?" she posed.

"You can easily be the most elegant and expensive harlot I have ever seen," said Alexey evenly.

Jeane only giggled at that. "Such flattering words..." her staff glowed ominously. "I should rightfully reward you as such."

"And I, you, also, for nearly killing some members of the 12th Unit," offered Alexey just as coolly.

"It was your misjudgment in Caleria that lead them here," explained Jeane offhandedly. "Besides, Jacques was there." She laughed. "Still can't believe that he could stop my magic."

"Geddoe isn't as much of an idiot as you think. As for Jacques Tricrox, he passed his Temple Guardsmen training, physical and written, with flying colors. It's natural for him to disable powerful magic."

"So they have him run a fool's errand as a watch dog? What an ingenious waste of talent."

Alexey laughed. "Such criticism. Would you like a job within the church to rectify such waste? I can have it arranged. It would be an interesting novelty, even for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Jeane.

"Of course. Now, stop concentrating magic into your staff. It's making others nervous."

"This is my warning to you," threatened Jeane in a singsong manner. "Not to the others."

"Then let me ask you this. Will you pit a demi-god against a true god?"

"Humph!" growled Jeane, insulted but also humbled by the statement. The Rune of Punishment was considered weak by those who knew the existence of other True Rune like the Sun Rune. The pathetic True Rune never destroyed an entire nation or committed a ten day holocaust. But the Rune of Punishment was still a True Rune, an inanimate God that was said to have equal power to its twenty-six brethrens. Jeane had to remember that the degree of power was dependant on the bearer. "Are you always this bold?"

"It's Alexey's personality. It frightens the weaker priests and their toadies. Some thinks its a way to Alexey's own downfall." the holder of the True Rune explained as if trying to apologize for his presumptuous dare. "Most get the hint and tread lightly around him."

"Are you ever yourself?"

Alexey laughed mysteriously "You can answer that question."

Departure from Le Buque to Crystal Valley took place approximately two hours later. It took time to find willing Mentors to transport complete strangers on their backs. With Silvesti and Franz at command, the six-hundred strong mixed group of Temple Guards, magicians, and supporting militia took off.

In a certain part of the village, Jacques fingered the silver ring silently as he watched the swarm of bugs gather like clouds in the sky. His sharp eyes picked out, among the hundreds, the particular people who could change fundamental structures of Harmonia in a matter of days.

Then he looked down, at the small hut where Geddoe was recovering from the fight. At that, Jacques propped his chin on his palm and elbow on his knee, thinking. Sooner or later, he would have to confess to his unit about his own connections to Harmonia. He would have to tell his captain of the past decade that he, Jacques was acting under one single order. The sharpshooter's loyalty was far from the principles of a mercenary, but closer to a self-righteousness of a temple guard, the private army of the Harmonian priesthood. An order was an order, and his Temple trainings taught the strictest control over such petty emotions as guilt.

He thought back on the day he accepted the order. His family had thought him mad, to give up first-class privileges for nights spent in the mud, sleeping with common beasts. He could not just out right tell them that he wanted no part of the corrupt Party system. At least with his order, he did not have to fear backstabbing from his own siblings, as had happened with some first-class citizens.

Jacques laughed ironically and shut his eyes. He had left that life so long ago that he could never go truly go back. Meandering through the lands like a vagabond with Geddoe had proven to be a satisfying life. Geddoe was a good captain, his decisions were wise and he always acted for the good of the unit. There was also fun, watching the dalliance between Ace and Joker. The eternally cool and handsome Queen was a beauty to behold. Aila's fiery temper was actually a bit charming. However, with the appearance of the presumed-dead-bishop, there were orders from Harmonia, commands that he would not ignore.

_"Remember that you swear fealty to Harmonia," Bishop Alexander used to say. Though his training was deadly at times, the temples guards produced under him were guaranteed to be the cream of the crop. "You must always be willing to backstab those of most value to you should Harmonia benefit from such treachery."_

_"What if it's a priest?" someone from the small crowd of students asked. "Even if we are assigned to you?"_

_Alexander's lips curved into his chilling grin, like a sadistic child toying with a twitching worm. The man who asked the question took a step back. "Alexey" was kind and gentle to a select few, but Alexander was truly ruthless._

_"Then you must try **very **hard to kill me."_

Of course there were some who tried to test that command. A few even took that command as permission to assassinate the beloved bishop. Jacques had the chance to witness Alexander cutting a commissioned assassin from crotch to neck, taking care to sever the head cleanly. The Arch Bishop did not even blink as the head rolled; he cleaned his hidden dagger, a one piece blade without any embellishments, with a plain brown handkerchief. _"Please pickle and preserve the head."_ he had said to a dumbfounded porter, tucking the dagger back into his cumbersome priest robes. Jacques remembered how imperturbable the bishop was. _"I think it's about time Lord Mitchel received that long overdue gift."_

Jacques felt a particular chill while he recalled that memory. It was hard to realize that he could have almost perished for his brash demands. "The Father will protect me because I am faithful," muttered Jacques, reciting a commonly known litany. "He will open the gates of heaven for me, and his angels will protect me in all my ways." He said it a few more times until he felt steady enough. It was about time he returned to his observation.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Franz had never thought that he would become Governor of Le Buque.

The Harmonian Aristocrat, William Rosenel, who dictated the former Grassland holdings was a purist. Lord Rosenel was convinced that the third-class was only slightly better than barbarians and thus must never rule themselves. Lord Rosenel allowed only second-class citizens to serve in his household when the practice had always been third class. On the streets, the man would turn his head away from even the sight of a third-class, least their uncouthness contaminate his civilized sensibility.

Then someone, approximately two months before the end of the Second Fire Bringer War, decided that Lord Rosenel was not likable enough to live so they disposed of him and many of his immediate family. Some said it was vigilante justice, some said it was the will of Holy Hikusaak, some said Rosenel annoyed the wrong people. As it turned out, enough of the Rosenel main line had died to leave dictatorship of the former Grassland holdings to their distant cousin by marriage, the House Sulphina.

Suspicion and rumors flew, as with all things that are connected to the powerful, but many scholars had already analyzed the problem firsthand. House Rosenel had declined steadily since the Highland Rebellion over twenty-five years ago. They were traditional to a fault, becoming another well-established line that stubbornly clung to the old ways and thus doomed themselves to extinction.

House Sulphina, on the other hand, was headed by a man named Dominic whose demeanor and actions resembled that of a nervous rat stuck in the middle of a mouse trap field. The man was cautious and quick to retract his hand if there was any possible danger to himself. And if there was any way to get out of dangers, he would scurry like the aforementioned rat into safety and compromise.

Fortunately for Le Buque, Dominic was what some would call "progressive." He left Le Buque alone for the most part. Once the dust from the previous war settled, Dominic selected a native who had known Harmonian sympathies to rule the conquered people. The reasons why he did so were not clear. It was said that when he took a vacation to visit some of Harmonia's Northwest neighbors, he became surprisingly enlightened. Otherwise, it could had been internal threats from the Crystal Palace itself. It was said that Lord Sasarai had personally taken interest in Le Buque and made certain that Dominic understood the interest as well.

At any rate, after becoming governor, Franz worked even harder for the ascendance of Le Buque into Second-Class.

Some of the villagers still looked upon him as a traitor to their customs and blood, but those were few and far between. It had been more than sixty years since their official annexation into Harmonia: those who still opposed Harmonian rule were too old or passed away. And with each generation, the resistance grew less and less. Harmonian propaganda machines were effective in subduing the population. Franz learned early on that steadfast allegiance to past traditions and refusing to evolve were an invitation to oblivion. History was written by the survivors, after all.

For now, Franz was charged with the duty of transporting back a significant number of the Temple Guards and Magicians who were scattered around western Harmonia.

Here, en route to Crystal Valley, the air was chilly and flaked with snow. If it was a regular exercise, Franz would have forbidden such dispatch of the insects during cold weather. The mentors did not like the cold; their metabolism naturally shut down in preparation for winter. If they were caught in a snow storm or ambush, they could be done for. However, the orders came from one of the nine Second Tier Priest Generals and such direct orders were rare. Everyone knew that each of the Priest Generals had superior magical aptitudes, enough to scour towns and fields if anyone were caught in their displeasure. For one of them to directly order a recall of troops, the situation must have been dire.

Franz and Ruby flew at the head of the Le Buque swarm. Ruby chittered in complaint, the beat of her wings slightly erratic. She was getting old in Mentor years.

Franz found himself thinking about the reason why all these specialty soldiers were being called. Surely the Priest Generals all had enough power to protect themselves from any threat. He looked toward the person leading the actual troops, Silvesti.

Lieutenant Colonel Silvesti was the typical Harmonian, with blue eyes and blonde hair. Here, among the magicians and temple guards, he was hardly the curiosity that he was back in Le Buque. He was absolutely condescending when he first met up with Franz, slighting him for being third-class. But the incident days earlier had made him into a real turd. Silvesti was a complete ass to his wife Iku and acted as if this new order came from the High Priest Hikusaak himself. Silvesti was a decent mentor rider though, capable of rudiment control over the mentors.

As much as many of the third-class hated to admit it, the majority of the despised Harmonians were competent in their chosen professions, be it scholarly, militaristic, or mundane. The well-rooted Harmonians prided themselves in excellence and faith. Many had no tolerance for personal failures.

But how does one measure faith or harmony? Faith was the confidence in what one did not see, and a hope for the future. That was not something Franz would have expected in a theocratic nation full of intrigues and brutal militaristic tyranny.

Then Franz considered the strange religious revival that was sweeping through the Harmonian Ranks. The event puzzled him much more than the mysteries of the Cynders. In his times as a servant in Crystal Valley, he remembered the dawn Sabbath when everyone went to church. People were mostly bored at those supposedly obligatory gatherings. But this new thing, the stories of the Healer Bishop trickled into his ears. People became willing attendants to those traditional observations.

At a short rest stop on a mountain plateau, Franz heard someone talking about it.

"Healer Bishop?" this young first-class temple guard scoffed. "Have you lost your marbles? Archbishop Alexander died years ago, remember?"

"But it's true!" the other cried. "They sighted him in Caleria!"

"Maybe it's a charlatan," the disbelieving guard said. "They are recalling us back to the valley because they say that this quack is raising a rebellion."

"What proof do you have?"

"What ever Lord Gabriel says is all the proof I need," the disbelieving guard said stubbornly.

"We swore _fealty to Harmonia_," the latter said. "Not Bishop Gabriel!"

The conversation continued along those lines for some time. Half of the camp seemed to believe the return of this mythical being while the others did not believe so. The one loudmouth kept on yapping his skepticism. Finally, someone just told him to shut-up, telling him that he might even understand when he gets older. Strangely, that disbelieving temple guard chuckled, looking delightfully amused.

The same disbelieving guard was Alexey.

Alexey had a good reason to be pleased. To have common soldiers stand up to a superior on matters of ethics showed that the passive teachings he had instilled within the Guardsmen's curriculum did serve its purpose. People who could act and decide for themselves meant less headaches on himself. He would never get anything done if he had to order people around all the time.

"Yo. Buddy, Don't go pissing off Jopey," said Thaddus, one of the Temple Guards who took pity on the seemingly foolish Alexey. Just last night, Thaddus had to save Alexey who had nodded off while on his mentor in mid-air. It made Thaddus wonder how in the world this kid ever managed to pass the final examinations. "I heard that he's from the Galliat Family."

Galliet Family, one of the People's Party as they were mostly merchant first-classes. It would benefit all merchants if all of the lower classes received greater opportunity and income. For them, the greater the number of customers with expendable income, the better their business. There was one thing on Alexey's mind though.

"Who the heck names their child Jopey Galliet?" Alexey mused out loud.

"I resent that tone!" cried Jopey from his side of the camp. "What name do you have?"

"Oh I have many many names. Let me see...my old lady used to call me bastard, deadbeat and stupid, to name a few," returned Alexey in a complete deadpan.

Surprisingly, few of the soldiers who were close enough to hear chuckled. Jopey however, was not amused.

"Well, this is Alexey of the...," said Thaddus, trying to placate a slowly heating Jopey. "Err...what unit are you in exactly?"

"I am no particular unit," said Alexey. "I'm actually Archbishop Alexander."

There was a moment of silence before a throng of people burst into laughter.

"You got to be kidding me! Holy Alexander is suppose to be seven-feet tall!"

"Yeah. They say that he could command a crowd with one word!"

"Besides, you're a shrimp!"

"And you're too young!"

Alexey laughed along with them, taking whatever they said as a joke. Their disbelief served him just fine. "Can't hurt to try. They do promote some Temple Guards into the Priesthood."

Many of them were still laughing. "Good luck. Priests need a hell of a lot of magic to pass their initiation."

"That's right. When did Lord Sasarai pass his initiation?"

"Six."

"No. I heard it was nine."

"Twelve," corrected Alexey. "He was Twelve and a day."

"No way! He's been in the priesthood all his life!"

"He was an honored acolyte before that. Not a consecrate priest."

"Well, aren't you the wise-ass about Lord Sasarai!" one of them accused.

Alexey rolled his eyes. "Sasarai has been around for decades. Who wouldn't want to know about him?"

"And you had enough time to find out?"

"Only an idiot knows not who he serves."

"Are you trying to insult me?"

"Alright alright. Settle down!" roared Robert, the second-lieutenant. He came into their clique of Temple Guardsmen. "Lights out in ten so get your prayers in. You two," he throws two bags to Alexey and Jopey of which both caught it with ease. "You guys are the watch."

Both men groaned.

"Quit your whining and get to work," barked Robert, adjusting his cap and stumped away. The coolness of the air promised a night in a snow storm. They would have to seal their sleeping bags tight.

"Oh. Before you go. Where is your pretty lady friend?" one of them asked Alexey.

Alexey shrugged. Jeane had left already since it was getting very close to the Circle District where the Harmonia capital city Crystal Valley lay. She snuck off by falling off one of the mentors, trusting that Alexey's own debacle of trying to fall off his own mentor had distracted everyone enough from noticing her escape. It was for the best. Jeane had the talent of irking him to the point of wanting to hurt something. "I honestly don't know," he answered before stalking to the edge of camp with a mournful-looking Jopey trailing behind him.

The night watch within specialty units were a little different from the ones in the regular army. In the regular army, torches and numerous patrols were the norm. The firelight would alert anyone to their presence but typically, regular armies moved in such large numbers that they did not concern themselves with petty ambushes.

The specialty units were typically long ranged fighters, magicians, and engineers. For the time being, they were considered a semi-magician unit, bearing that Temple Guards typically have varied talents. Alexey and Jopey were to surround the camp with smooth brown pebbles that were the fragments of Earth Runes. By such action, they could set up a barrier wall about five feet tall around the entire camp to protect their physically vulnerable magicians. And if the need arised, they could employ about three dozen adept magicians to create a shield dome above and below, completely enclosing the entire camp inside an impenetrable shell.

"You go that way, and I go this way," said Jopey once they reached the edge of camp. A vast rocky darkness laid all around the valley tundra, with sparse naked trees around. It would take them a good half an hour to "seed" the fragments and Jopey did not want to stay out more than necessary. He wanted to work with the asinine novice even less.

"Sure. Just don't get eaten by Rock Wolves," reminded Alexey. It was Fall Season in Zexen, but out in the western tundra of Harmonia, Winter had already came, and those animals that did not hibernate, were starved for their usual meals; they could very well have an eye for man as a food group.

Jopey rolled his eyes. As if a veteran like him could ever be taken by a few dogs.

They went their own separate ways, wishing to finish their assigned chores as soon as possible. Eventually, the two who were stuck with guard duty finished encircling their camp with the brown pebbles. They returned to the center of the camp, where two mages were charged with the task of keeping up the shield wall. Once the two magicians saw the returning Temple Guards, they sat down cross legged, both hands holding onto a well planted staff.

Jopey went straight to his tent, feeling a little too cold from the incipient snow storm. "You do the first shift and I do the second," said Jopey. One of the advantages of a special unit was that they needed very little man power for mundane duties such as patrol.

"Either way is fine." There were still much mental preparation Alexey needed to do and the closer he approached Crystal Valley, the more wary he became of the nagging pressure from the Circle Rune. Unlike Hikusaak's omnipresence that touched and permeated the lands of Harmonia, Alexey masked his presence the best he could, leaving less than a whisper of his passing. One took the steady brute force approach while the other took the sudden clever shortcuts. Often did their opposite machinations run in parallel until the subtle slip that would shift the favor to one or the other. So far, the score was almost even, with Alexey himself ahead of Hikusaak by one.

Those were Alexey's thought when he went to sit near the fire in the center of the camp with the two mages who were keeping up a shield wall. If the shield wall goes down, he would need to catch them as soon as possible.

"You ride the Saluri Mentor, don't you?" asked Franz, who happened to be also at the center fire. "The carnivorous Mentor that has been known to turn against its rider."

Alexey blinked, not sure who was talking to him. "Do I?" He just picked one of the wild Mentors that seemed unattached and brought it under his control as he remembered how to. He never realized that there were differences. Seeing the look on Franz's face made Alexey realize the error in his assumption "What if I do?"

"How?" Franz asked with narrowed eyes. "We only tame the Balmari because they're naturally docile. There has not been a single person who could tame a Saluri since Julian the White was executed."

"Executed? That sounds harsh," commented Alexey, smoothing over his initial reaction. He was rather surprised that someone actually remembered Julian the White. As he recalled, Wyatt, Geddoe and even himself were dead set on erasing Julian from all existence. He'd have to burn a few more history texts when he got the chance.

"You are avoiding the question. How did you tame a Saluri? You are not Le Buque. Even our elders forbid teaching the younger children about the Saluri."

"Well, that's almost like asking me "how do you walk?"" said Alexey.

"What's THAT suppose to mean?"

"How do YOU tame a mentor? I'm sure there are tricks that you teach outsiders to ride them, but people like you know instinctively how to. The knowhow is beyond the descriptive power of language."

"That still does not explain how you were able to ride a Saluri."

"I tame them," he made a vague waving motion toward his own Mentor. The large house-size insect lumbered toward him like an obedient but sleepy dog. "...as easily as I breath the air. I can not explain it." The statement was partially true. The Rune of Punishment had some odd powers like incinerating people and taming rabid creatures. Alexey would had been happier if it could cure the common cold though.

"Who are you? Where are you from?"

"Can't you tell? I'm a Temple Guard who specialized in magic. As to where I am from...I am from...nowhere."

"Nowhere?"

"In a sense."

Franz wanted to ask more questions, but a thunder rumbling in the distance took his attention. It was no normal thunder though as the entire night sky lit up like day. The ground began to shake, so much so that the two magicians keeping up the shield wall were snapped out of attention.

"Hum..." Alexey noted. "I do believe that we're due for an avalanche and a small earthquake."

"What?"

The ground rumbled even more, and the mix of snow and sand began to slush. Various men peeked out of their tents, immediately alerted by the sudden terrestrial vibrations. In the distance, lit up by the lightning storm, was a rolling torrent of sleet coming down the hill at spectacular speed. The two magicians who maintained the shield wall looked at each other and nodded. One of them renewed their concentration while the other barked an order to the nearest subordinate.

"You!" he pointed to Franz. "Go get Captain Ivanova. Tell her we need magicians." He then turned to Alexey. "You. Go find Silvesti and get his ass out of bed."

Franz saw the rude command as discrimination against the third class, but he never had time to act upon it. He already ran off to find this Ivanova.

Alexey sighed loudly as he stood up. "Why the hell did that idiot Silvesti have us camp out in the open?" he muttered underneath his breath as he shimmered out of sight.

The mage did not have time to contemplate the ease of that teleportation spell. He had to return to keeping up a strong shield as he heard...

"Avalanche!"

Many nudged their sluggish mentors, even tried stabbing them to make them move. However, the snow storm from last night had triggered a sleep response in the insects, causing nearly a third of them to position their bellies to the ground, already deep in their late hibernation. Too many were just waking up.

Silvesti rubbed his eyes, his mind still not alerted to the shaking ground or the commotion just outside of his large tent. The sudden appearance of Alexey, however, did make him jump nearly two feet off the bed.

"You!" The memory of how that mere _child_ had overcome him suddenly fresh in his mind.

"That's not my name," said Alexey calmly, keeping his irritation to a minimum. There would be plenty of time to get angry later.

"How the hell did you get in here?!"

Alexey completely ignored the question. "We have an avalanche that will reach camp in about two minutes, possibly burying us for a few days and killing some of us that aren't so survival savvy. And frankly, I don't have that much time to spare because I'll be obligated to dig everyone out without permanently maiming them. So go out and restrain some of your subordinates. I'll require clearance space for what I'm about to do."

"Who are you to order me around?"

"Did you forget? I'm your superior," said Alexey airily. He turned, fading out of sight.

Back in the middle of the camp, a stern looking woman in her forties, wearing a thin night gown, was roaring orders to scurrying magicians left and right. Most magicians were not trained to think on their feet. Many were rightfully taken off balance by this sudden change in plan.

Alexey teleported back to the center of the camp, looking as if he was on a stroll. "Relax Millie," he said nonchalantly. "You have more raw power here than you know what to do with now."

Millie Ivanova, one of the Master Magicians of Harmonia blinked when she heard that. She turned, only to see an unchanged and familiar face.

"You!" Millie Ivanova gasped. "So it's true! You are alive!"

"Judging from your reaction, it doesn't seem like you received my missive."

"I have," confessed Millie. "But..."

"Give me the details later," Alexey cut in. "Right now, I need your cooperation for the next seventy-two hours as I have tentatively planned. Can you do that?"

"Of course. You have but to ask."

"Good. In a few moments, I shall hold back the avalanche and take the first wave. But I will need room so give me space."

Millie nodded and turned to some of her magicians who were milling around center camp with their concentration of staves. "All of you. Get your asses at least ten meters from this man!" Like good obedient sheep, the magicians milled out of the way in the collectivist manner.

Once the magicians cleared camp, Alexey held out both of his hands and cracked his knuckles and fingers. This was the perfect opportunity to test the aptitude of his long unused magic. Like muscles, the strength of magic atrophies without use. To combat over a decade of negligence, Alexey decided that endurance training was the best. To do so, he released the seals on his own True Rune, allowing his conscious to merge partially with the Rune's own sentience. Such action had undoubtedly intruded on his free will, as he often caught himself imagining the ashen future with staunch approval and delight. However, he was also granted with near instantaneous access to unbelievable power, the same power that created their world, the stars, and all the creatures that roamed their lands. It was fractional sanity in exchange for power.

The avalanche was only seconds away from them now, rushing down like a pack of hungry wergs. Alexey stood firm as the rings on his fingers shone in reaction to the surge of magic. The gates of the dam were lifted, and all he had to do now was to mold it to his will. As soon as the avalanche was about to hit the first tent, a film of earth-colored glass shot up from the seeded stones and grew upward, curving into a small dome. There was a horrible crashing boom that sounded like a thousand exploding cannons, followed by...silence.

People watched in awe as they saw the sky completely disappear, covered over by rushing snow. There were no noises except for their own gasps. Everyone came out of their tents to stare at the sky. It was as if they were inside a cavern, completely covered, without any way out, and voices echoed.

Alexey frowned as he felt the pressure of the avalanche. He kept his eyes open, watching the product of his rune manipulation. Earth manipulation was his weakest point of all the elements. Earth lacked the versatility of Wind and the usefulness of Water and thus he rarely trained to use Earth. Even a slight lost of concentration would cause the dome to shatter. His body had sunken nearly a foot because he had set up the height of the field according to the his location and the position of the pebbles. With the avalanche dislocating the pebbles and force pressing down on the dome, his center had to shift.

"How the hell? A dome field takes at least ten master magicians!" someone whispered near him. "And for him to last this long..."

"Perhaps he IS Lord Alexander?" another suggested.

"Impossible. Even Lord Alexander never had this much magic. Only Holy Hikusaak could maintain this!"

"Silence!" ordered Millie, whipping out a small larva-like worm the size of a puppy from one of her many hidden pockets. The ugly larva crawled onto her arm and perched on her shoulder like an ornament. "Or I'll order Bonapart III to eat you."

"This might take a while," muttered Alexey, blinking once to renew his focus and allow his mind to gauge the output. _Damn you Jeane. I didn't ask for something like THIS._

Another five minute passed as the claustrophobic situation slowly ebbed as the snow flood passed. Now they were completely covered in snow, without any visibility to the sky. They could see neither cloud nor star, only faint reflection of the torches when the light bounced off the ice. People were still watching the sky in awe, wondering what power it took to hold the ceiling in place.

"You!" a voice boomed and echoed all around the dome.

"What do you want, Silvesti?" demanded Alexey, feeling more vexed than anything. The amount of ice he was holding up was about twenty feet high over an area of several acres. Maintaining such a weight was perhaps the most difficult of magic he had utilized. Most rune magic were sudden surges of power and rarely lasted for more than a few seconds. For a moment, Alexey entertained the thought of burying these people alive.

"Millie. Have your magicians take over this dome field," ordered Alexey, drawing a pair of twin swords, loosing his concentration visibly. Sleet had already started to flutter from the sky downward.

"Millie. I order you to ignore that order," barked Silvesti, licking his lips. Who knew the largest current bounty could be right at his fingertips? He should have arrested the charlatan back in Le Buque, but now was a better time than any.

Millie scoffed at Silvesti then complied with Alexey's suggestion. As a Harmonian in a specialized profession, a humiliating death by crushing was too much a disgrace to consider. "Magicians! guard!"

More than two dozen hesitantly came forward to receive the burden, some of them expressing surprise as they shouldered from the mana demand. They looked to Alexey in amazement, mentally aware of the feat this one man had accomplished without any difficulty. Many of the older magicians remembered the famous bishop who had mentored their beloved Sasarai's in his younger years, and the connection was made that this young man could be him.

Alexey closed off his direct connection to the Rune. Some part of him knew that if he stayed within the Rune's consciousness, he would truly bury all these people. However, once he was out, he sunk to his knees, his mind groping for his original personality and mannerisms.

Silvesti, a young Colonel with plenty of hopes and ambitions for his career, advanced with his subordinates. They tackled Alexey, throwing the man to the ground, taking advantage of his momentary weakness. Alexey struggled naturally, putting up a fight to resist arrest.

Millie observed the entire capture with mute interest. There was an appreciative bounty for Alexey, commissioned by the oh-so charming bishop Gabriel himself. If Silvesti brought Alexey's still warm body to Gabriel, Silvesti could retire with an honorary title to his name, free to enjoy the rest of his days as a man of esteem and means. But if Silvesti pissed off Alexey, Silvesti would probably find a way out from living before the end of the day.

Finally Silvesti cuffed Alexey's hands with a rune magic suppressing seal. This would prevent the man from any mischief.

Millie looked at Alexey, frowning. This was far too easy, not for a man who precipitated the ten days of flame.

Alexey returned Millie's gaze and unexpectedly winked, before a sharp blow at the back of his neck knocked out his consciousness.

---------------------------------------------------

Morgan grinned at the image of herself in the mirror. She was adorable and she knew it. Her blonde locks were braided to give a cornice effect and tied back by a velvet red bow. Lotty had helped her pick out a lacy dress with pink flower imprints on it and the most fashionable red shoes. The pantyhose were a bit itchy though, and Morgan kept on wanting to scratch an imagined bug bite.

"Don't pick at it," said Lotty, finishing the last touches on Morgan's dress.

To be honest, Lotty was rather relieved that the final gala was today. With all those people and free hands in the normally quiet manor, she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She missed the old routines of just her, her father, old Virgil, Lord Redrum, Morgan and Rakasvi. Lotty touched her ring necklace, wondering what Rakasvi was doing right now. He had only been gone for a week, but Lotty already missed him a lot.

Morgan did not mind all the new people. She almost never had a chance to meet her hero Lady Chris or see so many important people in one place. Papa rarely got out of his armor and had never looked so handsome. Sir Roland and Sir Leo all looked so regal and fantastic in their respective formal ware. That and Ra always said to make friends whenever and wherever she could. Being cooped up in the big empty manor since her birth, Morgan had no real friends other than the servants and some of Papa's friends' children. And instead of feeling oppressed by all these people, Morgan never felt so excited.

"Done!" Lotty announced, pinning the last pearls into Morgan's hair. "Stand up and let's have a look."

At her command, the little girl pranced over to a body-length mirror and twirled around.

"Now don't run..."

Completely disregarding whatever advice Lotty was about to give, Morgan already bolted out of the room. The young woman only sighed with a smile. Sweet little Morgan was a bundle of energy who had little patience for formality and insincerity.

Morgan went out to the main gallery where the large ball was being held. Classy Guild ladies in their lavish dresses and feather fans chattered and chuckled at each other. The eligible daughters and prospective sons of powerful families tested each other, trying to find someone wealthy, someone easy to control. Guildsmen and councilors, old men who held the legislative rights of Zexen, talked with airs of importance. Amongst them, Morgan only had eyes for certain people.

First was Lady Chris. Morgan adored Chris like a child who adores a superhero. She only wished to become like Chris, join the Service Academy and then become a beloved knight, bedazzling the citizens and saving maidens. Well, maybe not saving maidens, but certainly falling in love with a witty, handsome, charming and dashing young man, then running off on fabulous adventures. That train of thought brought Morgan to the second person she was looking for, her Papa.

Papa was standing near the presentation stage in the main ball room. He wore breeches, a fine shin-length blue coat and a cravat at his throat. Morgan thought Papa so fine that she immediately promised herself that she would only fall in love with a man as handsome as Papa. Morgan went over to Papa and grabbed his coat.

"Aren't I pretty, Papa?" Morgan asked impishly, twirling once for her father to see. She was in the commons room where he and a few of his friends gathered. There was that extremely tall elf Roland and big buff Mister Leo. Mister Fraulein was there too, deep in conversation with Mister Salome.

"Yes, very," agreed Borus distractedly. Border conflicts were flaring up again between Zexen and Tinto, and he happened to be in a discussion with Roland on that topic.

Though ignored, Morgan, obviously pleased by her father's comment, grinned from ear to ear.

"You're...alright?" came a voice that made Morgan's face vault. She glared at the boy who had abandoned her earlier.

PJ was standing next to his father, moodily sipping on a pink-colored liquid.

"Yeah, no thanks to you!" spat Morgan, her happy mood immediately spoiled.

"Well, I hope you eat dirt again then!" PJ came back just as vehemently.

"Why you...!" Morgan made a motion to tackle him.

"Now now children," said Percival, walking over and pulling the two apart just in time. A Casanova still, he tried to mitigate the girl's anger. "I know you want to beat my son to a bloody pulp just like how your father wanted to do to me when we first crossed paths, but can you wait until after the party? I'm sure his younger sisters want first dibs themselves."

"Hey! I resent that!" cried PJ. "And why would they want to..."

"You put fake cockroaches in their beds before we left Iksay and I have no idea what the hell you dumped in their morning broth. Claudia cried and Barbara just wants to kill you," said Percival calmly. "And your mother is not amused by the chair prank."

"Sounds like what you used to do in the squire dorm," said Lady Chris, coming around to her fellow knights. "I seem to remember you involving Borus in your little escapades, and I also seem to remember your actions costing you two weeks worth of mess hall duty."

"Hey, it's not my fault that Captain Oriam screams like a girl at the sight of a bug."

"They were Nagarean bugs, the size of a man's head," reminded Chris dryly. Now she took a good look at her group. Roland and Borus were finishing up a discussion about the tension between Zexen and Tinto. Roland looked about the same as he ever did, being an elf meaning that he lived thrice as long as a human. He would not change for some time to come. Borus was looking at Chris with that same longing he had for her since they were squires. However, his attention was split between Chris and Morgan.

Morgan had grown taller since Chris had last spent any good amount of time around her. Though she was at the age of all elbows and knees, Morgan had much promise of becoming one of the most desired women in Viney. And unlike many upper classed girls, Morgan seemed to retain a certain amount of innocence as well as naivety for her age. Her laughter and scowl was unguarded, expressing her full temper like her father in addition to that little girl charm of hers. She would be popular. All in all, Chris had liked how Morgan had turned out, if only...

"I believe an introduction is in order," said Si'cham, the ever so mindful translator that stuck to Nina like a hungry tick.

"Ah yes," Chris fumbled for a moment. "This is Sir Roland, our best archer and one of the Six," continued Chris, reciting every title Roland had ever held.

While the adults talked, Morgan hid behind her father's pants. She enjoyed being with people, but really big important people made Morgan antsy. What if she were to embarrass herself? It would make Papa look bad and Morgan would never do anything to intentionally hurt Papa.

"Pssst!" PJ motioned at Morgan. When he finally got her attention, he made a face at her.

Morgan resisted throwing the glass of punch that Sir Roland had placed on a collection tray nearby at PJ. She swore silently that she'd put a slimy frog in his bed one day, as soon as she could take the horse out.

"And this is the honored lady to this party, Princess Nina of Obel," said Chris finally. "First Seat Chairwoman of the Island Nations, Sea woman of rank Admiral in the Island Navy and Ambassador to Zexen."

"How do you do?" said Nina as smoothly as her accent could allow.

Morgan suddenly turned to Nina, wide eyed. The way she spoke was greatly familiar to what Ra would lapse into at times. Morgan only saw that once, how Ra accidentally slipped on wet stone floor once and started cursing in some weird language. The familiarity made Morgan mighty curious.

The rest of the adults, however, were preoccupied with polite responses to Nina's greeting. They spoke quietly to the princess, asking her of the Islands' inner governmental structure.

Quite honestly, Nina was bored. This treaty with Zexen would add to the Islands' economy, however small it may be. She could not wait until she could escape all this lollygagging and go back. This search for the Prince had turned out to be a wild goose chase. Who knew how much popularity her competitor had gained?

Once Nina was finished, Morgan saw her chance satisfy her curiosity.

"Miss Nina," called Morgan with her most adorable voice and smiles. Ra did tell her to use it whenever she could. "I'm Morgan Anna Redrum. How do you do?"

Nina turned a lazy eye on the little girl. From talks around the Guild Halls, Nina recognized that this was an heiress to the vast Redrum fortune, taking into account that many of the little girl's uncles and aunts had named her in their wills. It would be wise to befriend this ignorant child. "Now do you do?"

Morgan kept up her smile and looked at the attending Si' Cham. "Can you ask Miss Nina if she knew of a man name Rakasvi?" Si'Cham translated.

Nina shook her head.

Morgan looked visibly disappointed. She did want to know some more about Ra, so she could somehow bribe him for more things like trips to town or even real sword practice. "I was just wondering because you talk a lot like Ra sometimes," Morgan explained.

However, Nina became rather distracted, as did many of the Islander soldiers who came as guard duty. They all turned toward the eastern sky, many whispered to each other in wonder.

"Miss Nina is saying that there is powerful magick at work to the northeast of here," said Si'cham. "The works of either a powerful mage, or a True Rune Bearer."

"Oh?" uttered Chris. That statement alarmed her. She had never made a show of her True Water Rune public knowledge. Even some members of the Zexen Council did not know. "Can she tell where Runes are?"

Si'cham quickly translated Chris's words. Nina replied back.

"'No. Though I'm born naturally attuned to Rune Magic, I'm not a complete master like my ancestors. Besides, detection is natural to most Islanders.' That ends the translation Lady Chris. However, I do know that some scholars suspect that the meteorological circumstances of the Islands had some odd runic influence upon the scarce population."

"I see." That little piece of information intrigued Chris. Not many were born with gifts to control rune magic more than just the mundane tasks. It was the reason why real doctors and physical laborers were still necessary professions. A population that had a substantial percentage with rune affinity may have explained the Island's natural domination over the seas and independence over the years.

Seeing Chris's concerned expression, Nina explained further with Sicham translating.

"Do not worry," Nina looked toward the northeast like every Islander though some had already begun to loose interest and found entertainment more in the party. "What had just happened is a strong spark, nothing more." Nina's expression turned mysterious. "Not every great magical effort moves the world. I'm sure you know that, Silver Maiden."

Chris nodded, reassured by Nina's response. However, Chris could not help but suspect that there was more to her response than what was on the surface...

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End Note: OMG! I updated... I"ll come back and edit the title.


	16. Chapter 15

AN: Thanks to wordsworthy for beta-ing. This is coming out a lot faster than I expected! Anyways, enjoy!

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Chapter 14

Bishop Gabriel was like many members of the Harmonian priesthood. He was placed in the church at age nine by his first-class family, seeing that his older brother inherited the fortunes and the other brother devoted himself to the mercantile pursuits. So once it came down to him, his father decided that having a member of the clergy in the family would benefit their own interests. Gabriel still remembered his father Brant's words.

_"Bring the Absolute One's favor upon your kinsmen."_

So Gabriel dutifully shed his family name, retained only his given name, and entered the church's service as an acolyte. He encountered and made many whom he knew were children of ambitious First Class. He studied hard, made friends and kept up appearances of another dutiful neophyte. He directed the Church's favor to his family at every turn and opportunity, the same family that he was supposedly to have renounced. He was widely regarded as the sharpest mind of his generation, a shoe-in to become one of the few selected bishop generals. He even had that idiot Sasarai in the palm of his hands.

That was supposed to be his lot, until that blasted Alexander came along.

Their first encounter was still vivid in his mind. Gabriel had not thought much of Alexander; he considered him just yet another of those freaks found at some hell-hole in the frontier of Harmonia. To Gabriel, Alexander, or just Alex, was just another magically imbued tool that the Temple decided not to execute as a demon spawn. Gabriel sniffed at the air and told Alexander that there was no room in the church for another meddler, so Alexander should stop lollygagging around and just serve the temples as another runic adept soldier. Alexander's reaction and expression was one of amusement.

_"You seem to be mistaken, __**Gabby**__. I'm here because at Hikusaak's __**request**__."_

Mere days later, Alexander ascended to the circle of Archbishops and had taken over old Phillip as a speaker for Holy Hikusaak. He took one day to reach the highest echelons of Harmonian power that any other would have with decades of meticulous planning. The only other man to ever rise so quickly to power was Lisk, and that was because he was the very first Archbishop installed by the Absolute One himself.

Many voiced their concerns. Alex was too young; the man was barely out of puberty and without any formal training or allegiance to Harmonia to boot. Furthermore, Alex was crude, rude and uncouth; the man was a barbarian through and through, with complete disregard for customs and personal discretion. Worse of all, Alex was unafraid of revolutionaries and even encouraged the fringe territories to cede.

Gabriel put forth all his efforts to scrape off piece of dirt in Alexander's past. Every man has a selfish motive to everything. Gabriel saw that Alex had personal dealing and connection with almost every nation, with the most flagrant traitorous acts with the Fire Bringers. And just as Gabriel saw his chance to declare victory over Alexander, that meddlesome "holy child" interfered.

Sasarai, the holy child born with an embedded True Rune in his heart, was not the innocent buffoon he had pretended to be. A newly consecrated priest and commander at the fledging age of twelve, Sasarai made his first real show of his true political power by relegating the former Priest Michel to a mere acolyte presiding over an frontier outpost. When challenged, Sasarai replied that Harmonia was a theocracy empowered and driven by Holy Hikusaak and those who possessed truly powerful runes. When verbal justification failed to quell the disbelievers, Sasarai resorted to force.

The former statue in the middle of the public forum within the One Temple was a case in point; an example of young Sasarai's not so subtle form of persuasion towards careless challenges.

Sasarai let him off three days later, a poor twitching larval of a man who sobbed and begged for forgiveness which Sasarai glibly gave. The young priest was by no means inhuman, he did not believe in punishment by death. On the contrary, Sasarai believed in object lessons to educate his political enemies not to irritate him with petty attempts. Like a true veteran, Sasarai desired only worthy opponent to further hone and school both himself and others in the virtue of vigilance.

_"You'll only embarrass yourself,"_ Sasarai had told Gabriel dispassionately when Gabriel suggested that he was about to revel Alexey's secrets. _"Besides, what makes you think Alexey is unaware of his very public weaknesses? He has every opportunity to destroy any evidence of his involvement with the Fire Bringers, but he deliberately left the records in the One Temple and certain far west publications in plain view."_

_"He is still a traitor to Harmonia," _Gabriel stated.

Sasarai had smiled then, an innocent but cold facade that had fooled everyone into preceiving him a guiltless tyke. _"I believe you should reconsider those words before you speak of them again."_ It was no friendly advice, but a veiled warning.

Gabriel hadn't comprehended what Sasarai meant then. He only seethed as he saw one of his best pawns slip away as a rival.

"Your Excellency?" called a maid from the door, snapping Gabriel out of his thoughts. The meek girl named Brenda kept her eyes low on the ground. Gabriel was a decent master, but he took the law literally of how one should treat a Third Class, like indentured servants. "Lady Millie is here."

Ahhh...Millie. One of the most talented Guardsmen in the service, at least magic-wise. Millie had an eccentric habit of keeping disturbing oversized wiggling bugs around. Sometimes, her speech was extremely puerile, full of grammatical errors and a lazy lisp. Despite her personality faults, Gabriel found her as tolerable as any man who treasured their sanity would tolerate her.

"Let her in." Gabriel finally said.

Millie Ivanova, an eccentric magician who carried a strange animal on her arm, entered. She was dressed in the proper temple garbs, the regimental ensemble of blue, silver and black. Her countenance remained among the flower of youth by her plentiful magic.

"Report," said Gabriel. "And you better have good news."

Millie bowed obediently. "The imposter has been captured. He is en route."

"Oh? So soon? How did you find him?"

"He disguised himself as a returning temple guardsmen with the Le Buque unit."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "So easily?"

Millie shrugged, insouciant to the entire matter. She had a record of unpredictable mood swings. One moment scatter brained and delivering harangue to the wall the next. At least her results were…reliable. "Silvesti knocked him out in front of my eyes."

Gabriel nodded satisfactorily. Executing this imposter would hopefully silence all those insurgent and return Harmonia to its proper state. "Good. I want you to escort him to the public square. Have someone report to me once he's ready for execution."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexey sat very still while the enclosed execution block on wheels moved at a grindingly slow pace into Crystal Valley. Both of his arms and legs were cuffed with a magic resistant metal. Someone had taken the creative liberty to chain him to an anvil...not that he minded. In fact, he probably would have been insulted if they didn't. He did mind the fact that the cart smelled like some wild animal just died.

He was not alone in his little cell.

"What did you do to get here?" The random fugitive who shared the mobile cell asked Alexey. They had traveled approximately an hour in complete silence.

If Alexey could've shrugged with all those weights and restraints on him, he would. At least he still could talk. "I got caught impersonating as a temple guard." he grumbled. "Oh well. Silvesti will probably get a promotion for my capture which is always good. What's your name?"

"Gorath," said the man. He seemed to be in his early twenties, but it was hard to tell with all the scars and dirt on his face. "I'm here because I struck Bishop Michel."

Alexey rolled his eyes. "What did that incompetent fool do this time?"

Gorath seemed startled that his fellow criminal would speak so lightly of a Harmonian Bishop, but he reminded himself that they were headed for the headmen so it really did not matter what they say. "He took my wife," Gorath confessed as he clenched his fist. "Not that she went to him unwillingly... with me being a poor soldier and all...but after I saw them together...I just lost my head and struck him without remembering who he was."

"Eck. Should've just killed him," Alexey scoffed.

"What?" Gorath raised an eyebrow, undecided if he heard it correctly.

"You strike a bishop, you head for the chopper. You kill a bishop, you head for the chopper," Alexey rambled on. "Either way, the results are the same."

"Very true," Gorath agreed though mention of killing made him uneasy. Casualties of war were one thing. Outright murders were quite another.

"Name's Alexander, by the way. Archbishop Alexander, but my friends call me Alexey," said Alexey plainly. "I would greet you with proper gestures if I could, save my hands are tied at the moment."

Now **that** made Gorath really nervous. "Alexander? Aren't you that quack with a ridiculously high bounty?"

"Humph, I am no quack," said Alexey dryly. "I am the real thing. And just for your information, I had higher bounties on my head before, though the one Gabriel issued is comparable."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, really. I was the head of the Ninth Tier, directly under Hikusaak for some time in Solis 458 to Solis 468...or was it 470. I'm never sure because I am an old man and as you know, memory goes with age. And you would think memory starts to go after forty or sixty. No it goes by the time you are five."

Gorath swallowed, not sure if he should play along. He began to wonder what asylums Harmonia had for all the crazies.

"Really. I think I was born in Solis 285, so that would make me about two hundred years old. Man, I should've banked on the spice trade when I had the chance."

Gorath shook his head and looked away, now certain that Alex was a madman. No one lived for so long, except people like the Holy Father Hikusaak and Sasarai the Just.

Alexey continued to ramble on for approximately another hour. He spoke about the civil war in Falena, the founding of the Island Nation Federation and the revolutionary war of Toran. He babbled on and on about the various rituals of Nagarea and Armes, nations that Gorath had heard of only in fairy tales. Then there was the extended historical lecture about the First Fire Bringer War. It was all very interesting, if only Alex would stop talking in that dull monotone, jump around from one region without any warning, or if Gorath believed him in the first place.

"Anyways, thanks for listening. It's been quite some time since I had the pleasure of speaking frankly," said Alexey finally with a yawn. "Now where are those..."

Just as he spoke those words, there was a raucous disturbance outside. Several men screamed and sounds of men having their flesh violated by sharp instruments.

"What was that?!" exclaimed Gorath.

"The **late **escort party, who else?" muttered Alexey.

Gorath heart pounded with excitement as his entire body shook. Was he going to be freed by unlikely saviors or killed by bandits? He hopped up and down near the small barred crack that was their sole source of light to the outside world. He saw spurts of blood, spears and magic clash. Who they were, he could not determine.

The scuffle lasted approximately five minutes, with enough sounds of men taking their last breath. Finally, the door to their rolling cell was blasted open.

Gorath gasped in surprise. Temple Guardsmen! Over two dozen soldiers from the high society, made up of mainly loyal sons and daughters of Harmonia, dressed in immaculate blue short cloak, standing in perfect arrow formation. The very front was a man with whitish blonde side burns and wrinkles of age.

"Tch." Alexey snorted from the back. "Took you long enough, Dios."

Dios was hardly flustered. "My apologies your reverence. We were delayed," said Dios calmly, "by Millie Ivanova."

The youthful girl next to Dios tilted her head and said acerbically, "I was only following orders, which were coincidentally much more tedious and risky than yours ever were."

"Oh? We are all committing treason if we are caught."

"But at least we won't burn in hell," Millie shot back. "My conscience is clear. Is yours clear too?"

Dios rolled his eyes at Millie. Trust an eccentric magician to believe in the afterlife of heaven and hell, to question personal ethics. There were trouble enough in this life trying to live day to day. And in Dios opinion, if he believed in the afterlife, this act would commit him to hell. With that thought filed away, he then turned to the two prisoners. "Will you be requiring assistance?"

"Doubt it." Alexey stood up, the cuffs and chains suddenly fell along with a slightly misshapen toothpick.

All Gorath could only stare incredulously, and noting the general lack of surprise among the escort party. But before he could even utter a word, Alexey walked past him and hopped off the cart.

"We have no time to lose," said Alexey in a business-like voice. "I trust you have horses?"

"Fresh mounts at every outpost," said a third temple guard, "You only need to give word."

"Hey!" called Gorath urgently. He was not about to be left behind. "What about me?"

This time, it was Millie who stepped up. She hopped onto the cart with the ease of a gazelle, her robes sweeping the ground gracefully as she came awfully close to him. She patted his face like a cattle buyer would bat a bovine destined for the slaughter house. "You? You are the bait and double."

"What?"

"Our current operation requires a certain degree of subterfuge, a sacrificial mannequin you could say," explained Millie. "And you're it."

"Wait. I'm it?" screeched Gorath. "You mean I'm supposed to die for him?"

"Ding Ding Ding Ding! You're so smart," gushed Millie this time as she gave the man a light peck on the nose. The childish act seemed all too bizarre. "Hold on tight. We'll be at the headsmen's block shortly." She hopping off and slammed the door on the moving cell.

---------------------------------------------

With the ball inside the mansion in full swing, Morgan found herself conveniently forgotten by the adult company. The big people all became absorbed with each other. The men, including Lady Chris, mostly talked about the current political situation all around the world. Those conversations revealed nothing that Morgan didn't already know. Once she was bored enough, she went to the other crowd.

Many high proper ladies discussed the matter of who's sleeping with who. They often paused for scandalous chuckling, eyes darting toward Morgan before chuckling some more. Morgan became rather confused. What was so funny with a boy sleeping in the same bed as a girl? As long as the boy bath and scraped off the cooties off of him, she did not really mind if a boy shared her mattress. And so what if her idol, Lady Chris, was seen with Papa? They were warriors who protect the Zexen Federation. Their dutiful protectors required time to strategize on how to best defend their borders.

"This is boring," declared Morgan to herself. She sat on the decorative retaining wall outside in the garden eight feet high up in the air. The night was clear, with all the stars and constellations brilliant in the sky. Morgan sighed, wishing she was out doing great heroic deeds like rescuing orphans or fun things like wrestling PJ, sword practice, or even play tea. Ra was probably enjoying himself, free of an annoying girl like her. Morgan knew she probably tested the man's patience once or twice.

"What are you doing up there, child?" a strange man from below called.

Morgan turned to look down. It was that groggy looking head grounds keeper from Papa's other manor. The man had no hair, his eyes sunken in like he had not slept for days. He seemed unsurprised to see her so high upon the retaining wall. That alone stirred Morgan's curiosity.

"Just looking the stars," replied Morgan, looking up. It was a stupid comment, since the city lights obscured the view of even the most important star, Tenkai.

"Ah. The stars. At mass, they say everyone belong to a star, and that star determine their future, fortune, happiness, and deeds," said the grounds keeper. "Do you know your star?"

Morgan nodded. "Ra says that I'm either Tenkou, the clever star, or the Tenson, the broken star."

"Hummm. So he's using the new convention then."

"What do you mean?"

"He may have not told you, but in the old days, long before the establishment the current world as we know it, Tenkou and Tenson had different meaning."

"What did they mean before?"

"Tenkou meant the graceful child and Tenson meant the dance in the waves," said the man. "But that was before his time, at least before his current reincarnation."

His words piqued Morgan's interest. Ra had extensively taught her about the stars of heaven and earth. It was common knowledge for priests whose duty were, in part, was to foretell the fortunes by reading the stars. Such knowledge was not for lady of good breeding. In the barbaric lands, foretelling was branded as witchcraft as Ra had warned her.

"What's your name, mister?" asked Morgan, curious.

"Scytal. I serve as grounds keeper for your father in his main manor," said the man, bowing successfully because of the haunch back. "I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance, Lady Morgan."

The title of "lady," immediately endeared Morgan. "You're interesting, Scytal," declared Morgan. She hopped down from her wall, making a light landing. She spun to face him. She only came up to his torso. "I'm pleased to meet you too." She held out her hand like a proper lady.

"And you are interesting too, Lady Morgan." Scytal had the grace to kiss her hand.

Morgan grinned at the compliment and gentlemanly behavior. "So, since we're on stars, what star are you?"

Scytal thought for a moment. "I've...been with plenty of stars...the most recent, Tenyu."

"Tenyu...Tenyu..." Morgan thought for a moment. Ra at some point made her memorize the meaning of all 108 major stars. "The heroic ferocity! But you don't look very ferocious."

"You think so?" Scytal asked, then crackled. "That man..._Rakasvi_, would disagree."

Morgan immediately perked up. "You know Ra?"

"The better question here is, who doesn't know him?" said Scytal mysteriously. He began to pace all around, eyes darting left and right, looking for nothing in particular.

Morgan followed him, curious. "What do you mean?"

"So he never told you...huh?" Scytal chuckled and clapped his hands. "Now this is getting far more amusing than I thought...but everyone has rights to their secrets I suppose." Then he gazed at her with a hunger never seen before. "You know, he has a present for you...if you close your eyes, I can show it to you. What do you say?"

Morgan's skin prickled in nervousness. Something about Scytal seemed so natural but seemed so wrong. "But...Papa says I shouldn't run off with strangers..."

"I am not a stranger," reasoned Scytal with a smile. "I've been the Redrum grounds keeper ever since Lord Redrum was born. Besides, I've knew Rakasvi for a very, very long time."

"How? If you're Ra's friend, then why haven't you wrote or visited him?"

"We are not friends exactly but we were once...brothers...in a sense, before you were born."

"Really?!" asked Morgan, interested. Ra had to be a kid like her at some point, and he didn't look so old. "So you used to play with him?"

"Play? Ahh. You can say that. Yes, we used to _play _together. So, will you come with me? It's a secret gift that he's been hiding from you for a long time."

"But..."

"I promise you. You will see him sooner, if you came with me. You just have to close your eyes."

"Um...Alright. But you have to promise that it's really neat! Or I won't ever forgive you."

"Of course..."

---------------------------------


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dios fought to keep his eyes open.

They had rushed from outpost to outpost, passing by increasingly civilized townships as they neared Crystal Valley. At most checkpoints, the watchmen accorded them swift passage, recognizing Dios as the personal aide to Lord Sasarai. Only a handful was hesitant, adhering to proper border checking procedure. If proven too cumbersome, one of the magicians involved a wind rune and arranged for an expedited process. Far less, perhaps only a couple veteran watchmen and an aged priest named Gregory, actually recognized Alexey.

"Pretend that this never happened," Alexey would say to the few who identified him "That is an order." Incidentally, those who did recognize him gave the man no trouble at all as he pressed forward with haste. The arch bishop seemed to possess inhuman endurance, never pausing at an outpost for more than ten minutes for news of Harmonia before galloping off. Having been taught mostly guise and wiles to defeat foes over brute force, the volunteer consort of the Temple Guardsmen bit their tongue and relied on sheer will to keep pace.

The necessity of rest came as no surprise save for Alexey as he rode far ahead of the company, leaving them a sizable distance to follow. He needed no guide as it would have seemed, having spent the better part of his life roaming the lands near Crystal Valley. Even though the old paths and trails were covered by snow at the moment, his senses instinctively remembered the ways from years past, as though engrained into his memory just several days previously.

At any rate, by the time his company caught up with him again, Alexey already had a low fire started near a well-sheltered stone outcropping. The snow there was thin while the defoliating forest was still dense enough to hide them from the view of road bandits and search parties.

"We are a day away from Crystal Valley," briefed Alexey once the escort was seated around a fire, each ready to fill their grudging bellies with long withheld rations and warm gruel. Alexey himself ate very little, devoting the energies of his body to the mind rather than the stomach. "Millie will arrive approximately six hours behind. That should leave enough time to set up the element of surprise and save Gorath."

"That man who was with you?" asked a guard named Joe Lavins. "Is he not carrying an execution sentence?"

"Yes." Alexey closed his eyes, grasping for the prophetic ability of his True Rune. There, he saw endless sparkles of stars and each fulcrum on which the balance of Order and Chaos fought for sovereignty. With near nonchalant curiosity, he glanced at his own star, only to bite back a reaction of disgust.

"I might need Gorath for later," said Alexey, reining his mind back to the task at hand. "I would rather the inconvenience of his death not come back and haunt me when and where I least expect it." He opened his eyes, focused. "I will need all of your cooperation for three days. Afterward, you may do as you wish. I will try to ensure you are extricated for ill consequences, but I cannot guarantee complete immunity from impeachability. Knowing the risk, will you devote this time to me?"

Everyone nodded. Many of these Guards were under the tutelage of Alexey years back, each loyal not to an individual, but Harmonia as a whole. Each recognized the brittleness of the priesthood that made up the rock on which political factions and Guildsmen trampled on. Each knew enough of the circumstances to obtain assistance when the opportunity presented itself.

"Pardon me, your eminence, but are you not reclaiming your position in the church?" asked a Guard. They had all known sovereignty in Harmonia during the time Alexey was in power. The stability present during and after his term resulted in a great boon in the standard of living, something that some lesser nations could only of. Simple indulgences such as public education, a sizable peacetime standing army, even having to look ahead for at least forty years when a child was born...all became commonplace while barbaric tribes surrounding Harmonia lived only from day to day.

To say the least, Alexey's sudden "death" plunged the citizens into a period of mourning, but eternal Harmonia recovered with greater stability than before.

While infighting was not uncommon, certain members of the current administration had evidently threatened that stability enough that for some to reckon that Alexey crawled out of his grave just to put them back in their places.

That, however, was never Alexey's intention. "I'm only here for an audience with Hikusaak and some other business, nothing lengthy," answered Alexey. "I'm supposed to be dead, remember?"

"No one has seen the One Hero for years," someone reminded. "And the current Arch Bishop will allow no one near the chambers except for himself."

Alexey smiled, bemused. "You speak as if that'll stop me."

"My apologies."

"No need. You made a legitimate statement and I appreciate your concern. But Hikusaak is very much alive and though he has more or less a 'hands off' policy, he does watch and prepare." Alexey looked toward the darkened sky. So many sparkling stars with so many possibilities leading to failures more often than not. "An apex of destiny is approaching and Hikusaak will need the most capable people to see Harmonia though the tumultuous epoch ahead."

"I thought you were here to see to Sasarai," Dios interrupted, frowning. He had agreed to help this _renegade_ under the assumption that Alexey was returning only to heal Sasarai.

"Sasarai is...a peripheral and central concern," Alexey pursed his lips thoughtfully. Sasarai will probably need a lecture or two after listening to Luc's idiotic nugatory, lessons that Alexey had been deliberately avoiding in hopes that the child would eventually figure it out. He hated it when he had to crush one's preconception over the control their own fates in person; he would much rather they realize it on their own.

"Sasarai will be dealt with, for better or for worse," Alexey concluded. "Now come around. I'll need the next three days to proceed exactly as I will describe."

Alexey devoted the rest of the night detailing the ins and outs from the Crystal Palace. He wasted no time in assigning people to key positions. It took no time to see that Alexey was counting on the distraction of Gorath and Millie in the main boulevard.

Dios observed Alexey most critically during the discussion. As an appropriately loyal aide, he had questioned the decision to bring Alexander back to Crystal Valley. Alexander, the most beloved bishop by the people, was a healer that touched and sealed wounds of the heart and soul. But Alexander had a darker side of him that demanded victory regardless of any violation of the moral compass. He had knowledge of extensive secrets and ruthlessness ensconced by outward repose and charm. Come to think of it...Alex's personality and determination seem to mirror the Absolute One...

"That is my plan. Any questions?" Alexey finished.

"One question," Lavins peeped up. "Why hide within the Le Buque? As I understand, you could've come in alone."

"I made a promise to a friend a long time ago concerning Le Buque. I am fulfilling that promise. Now, all of you get some sleep. I'll take the first watch."

As he finished the sentence, a chorus of wolf howls came from a distance. It was late autumn in Harmonia, a time of dire famine for the countryside where wild animals began to hunt man for food.

"Are you certain, your eminence?" asked a Guard. They were used to priests needing protection from small things such as insects or even slovenly third-class citizens. Having a priest to actually protect them was a role reversal too odd to contemplate. "Don't you need rest more than the rest of us?"

"Are you questioning my judgement?"

"No!..I.."

"Then trust me. Get some rest. Tomorrow will more or less happen the way I have predicted." Alexey looked to the sky. "Unfortunately."

--

Lotty was the first person to feel that something was amiss and at first, she dismissed it as another one of her quirky feelings.

For as long as she had lived, whenever someone with great magic or a powerful rune came in close proximity, her spine tingled and her mouth ran dry. The one time she visited a rune sage in town, even the sage said that she held great potential if she ever decided to study rune craft. However, she was only a maid, albeit a lucky one at that. Serving under the Redrum House, her livelihood was guaranteed as long as she remained dutiful to her tasks. Therefore, she tried hard to stay none too involved. Those who were vastly gifted were often drafted into greater purpose like fighting wars. Lotty only wanted a simple life, with ordinary joys like a big family full of love and money.

But this feeling was different from what she had sensed before. It was not the light tingling whenever Lady Chris came around, or the tickling sensation whenever Ra invented a new way to flash fry steak with a rage rune. The feeling was of a burn in the back of her eyes as if she had not slept in days. She brushed aside the sensation, knowing that the sudden influx of people to the manor was probably responsible for her need to hide from people.

So when the burning sensation suddenly vaporized, Lotty was surprised. She was in the middle of fanning a stove fire when the absence hit, causing her to suddenly tip over and hit her head on the edge of the hot stove.

She immediate yelped like a kicked puppy.

"Lotty? You alright?" asked Derek, who returned to the manor just to make sure everything was going alright for the ball.

Lotty resisted the urge to touch her forehead and fanned the burned spot frantically while running around like a headless chicken, looking for some cool water. Barring her internal screams to salve the blisters, she briefly wondered how ridiculous she would look with a crooked burn mark on her forehead.

Someone did eventually hand her a pail of water to splash on the burned spot.

Her father, incidentally, was secretly trying not to laugh.

Lotty scowled and reminded herself to feed him boiled straws and stale beer for a week.

Then everyone heard a high-pitched scream, resounding through the manor.

Lotty and Derek both looked at each other in surprise. The same thought went through their heads.

_Morgan!_

--

In the main hall, everyone turned their head in confusion.

Borus was in middle of chattering with his fellow knights about the relative peace in Zexen. Sure there were still border clashes with Tinto and highway banditry, but the general usage of a peacetime military had been low. On the other hand, the visit from and Island Nation Representative herself had spurred interest among them in strengthening the navy instead. The situation spelled concern, but generally, the rich Zexen Commonwealth would keep their current standing army and continue the rigorous training regiment.

The sudden sharp scream had blotted out the sounds from the musicians and casual chatter. Some guests almost spilled their drinks on themselves. The sound came from everywhere at once, misdirecting all the attending squires and knights. But everyone knew it was not a normal cry.

There was some powerful magic amplifying the sound.

"_I know you're here! My brother!" _came a booming voice so deep that some felt their heart pound in unison to each syllable. "_Your stench permeates the place! Come out!"_

In midst of the immediate confusion, Borus blinked before gasping with realization.

"That was Morgan," said Lady Chris, unexpectedly. "Where was she last seen?"

The surreal deep voice came again, this time speaking a stranger tone.

Miss Nina and her retinue turned, startled. She blasted questions to Si'cham and her soldiers, outraged.

"What? What is it?" asked PJ.

Nina seemed to have caught wind of the question and badgered Si'cham into translating every word.

Si'cham was so flustered that he could only summarize. "Whoever is speaking is cycling the same message through different languages. Harmonian, Nagarean, Falenan, dialects, but he's speaking the older tongues. The accents and syntax are authentic. This means that someone very old is here. Older than a least three hundred." Si'cham's bug eyes became larger, he pointed. "There!"

High on the roof support ballast and beams was a grotesque hunchback. His skin was covered with sores, maggots in the left eye of a terribly deformed face. In his stumpy arm he held a wriggling little girl.

"_I'll hold this girl and slowly cut her into pieces._" This time, his booming voice was not heard by ear, but rather felt as though they resonated internally.His grotesque face seemed to meld into a blank mannequin's. _"Then I'll come back for another and another until Zexen is no more or one of us returns to the Darkness!"_

"No, you won't! You will release the girl and leave this place!" Lady Chris shouted, her Rune reacting to her displeasure. The room temperature dropped at her words, icicles forming on many surfaces.

The hunchback sniggered. "Ahh...the silver goddess of water speaks!" He crackled hideously as he saw sharp spears of ice formed around him. "But what makes you think I won't use this crybaby as a shield?"

"I'm not a cry baby, you scumbag!" the wiggling girl shouted loud and clear.

"Shut it!"

The girl stopped struggling. She gave one of her warning expression before she drew herself as close as she could to his good ear and shouted, "LET ME GO!"

Startled, the hunchback thrust the child away from him, instinctively directing her toward the ice spears.

Chris gasped, and the ice spears melted in an instant.

Recovering from his ringing ear, the hunchback crowed at the turn of events. "You dare not harm me as long as I have his child." He hopped from beam to beam before dropping down to the floor where many high class ladies were milling around.

The ladies screamed as they scrambled out of the way for the hunchback. The two guards at the door tried to stop him. The hunchback broke the two men into pieces with brute strength, limbs flailing and blood splattering against the few who were unfortunately close enough. Further out, some more screamed as the hunchback tore through men like paper.

The entire event set up a rolling snowball of panicking people. Like frightened rabbits, many scurried for a way out of the hall. However, Salome's calm voice rose among the crowd, barking orders as to who would stay and who would give chase. Already, the officers segregated themselves to their perspective roles. Seeing to the safety of the civilians was one of the prerogatives of a soldier.

Some, however, gave chase even before Salome gave the orders.

"Borus! Chris! Wait up!" cried Percival. He himself was fairly flustered by the sudden change in events. How the hell did patrols at the gates let something like _that_ through? He could understand Borus's action. Any father would be incised if their own little girl was stolen in front of their eyes. But Chris? She should have been thinking with a clearer head! She was too important a figurehead of Zexen for her to run off like some hothead.

"PJ Stay here!" Percival commanded. "Listen to everything Salome says until I come back. Understand?"

PJ nodded all too quickly.

Everything was happening so fast too. Sir Salome already had organized the remaining guards to seal off the exits in case the hunchback had accomplices. Leo and Roland assured the guests, promising them this was an uncommon occurrence and all Zexen knights were trained to respond appropriately.

"Please forgive us, Miss Nina," said Marcus once the crowd calmed down a small measure. His meticulous wife Victoria simpered nervously, trying to be as complacent to her husband as possible. Proper womanly behavior told her that screaming and fainting was the proper course. However, Marcus had warned her that the Islanders expected similar behavior between men and woman. "This will never happen again."

Nina ignored Marcus. Instead, she glared at her men and shouted angry guttural commands to them. At her words, they suddenly scattered, following the trail of the hunchback.

"What...what's happened?" asked Marcus. "Why are they going after that monster?"

Si'cham, who rightfully cowered next to Nina, finally found his voice. "It's a creature from the World of Emptiness." Suppressing a need to cry in distress, Si'cham continued to explain. "The only way those monsters can exist in this world is by a powerful gate rune mage. Those monsters are merciless! And all they know is to kill and destroy! They were so powerful that they were once used as weapons, causing great destruction to the Islands. Because of that, summoning permanent creatures by the gate rune became outlawed by Chairman Lino back in Solis 305 and aggressively enforced by Prince Lazlo!"

"But that doesn't answer my question!" demanded Marcus.

"I'm getting to it!" Si'cham faltered under the glare of his mistress. Nina rarely lost her composure in public and when she did, she could give irrational orders. "The permanent creatures from the Emptiness are such anathemas that it's our law to kill them on sight! Mistress just ordered her men to kill it, even if the little girl gets in the way."

PJ, who had been listening in, took a step back.

_Oh no!_ PJ internally shouted. He HAD to do something.

Taking one last look at Salome, he went with a crowd of Island soldiers.

_"I have to warn them!"_

--

Percival had seen never seen a man as enraged as Borus. If this was just the result of a practical joke, Percival could swear that Borus was about to foam at the mouth. But Percival realized that had their roles been reversed, Percival would be the one demanding blood.

Chris's expression was a mystery. Her expression kept on shifting between fright and anger. Percival had seen Chris angry plenty of times; she was a battle maiden and a goddess without flaws in his eyes. Expressing fright would reduce her to a mere woman.

"Borus! Wait up!" Percival called out to his comrade again, hoping in a small corner of the man's mind, that there was still someone sane enough to hear him. Rescue took extensive planning and a certain amount of subterfuge. Going in with a berserking fury would not help the situation.

And why the hell are all those Island soldiers coming after them? They came from behind in scattered formation, even running, everyone moving in unison. From the faint glow of their hands, each one had a rune; each also carried a dozen throwing knives and a bo staff.

And then the situation went from bad to worse.

"Dad! Dad!"

Percival winced. This was not the time for his errant son to show up!

PJ seemed out pop out of nowhere. He sped up to his father, panting inbetween words.

"What the heck are you doing here?" Percival demanded in between breaths. Damn that ugly troll could run!

"You said to _listen_ to Salome," said PJ. "You said nothing about _doing _what he says."

Percival saw the reason there since he himself used the same logic before. But hearing it from his own son only made him want to bang his head against the wall. In this instance, pertness was NOT appreciated. The boy would only impede the rescue and probably get captured! Percival swore he'd give the boy a good talk and rattle some sense into him to once this was all over.

PJ, on the other hand, felt the same about his father. Adults are so silly as to think children actually listen to everything their parents said! Besides, he had an important message for him! " Dad. I have to tell you something. Miss Nina wants that monster dead! She doesn't care who gets in the way! We gotta stop them so we can save Morgan!"

"What? What do you mean?"

"They'll kill Morgan if it means killing the hunchback! That lady is serious! Why do you think those guys behind us all have runes? Elemental ones at that!"

The comment registered in Percival's mind immediately. Most soldiers lacked the affinity and the basic understanding to use runes. So that was why the air sizzled. "Arg! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I'm telling you now! Hurry, they're catching up."

True enough, Islanders in scattered formation were darting left and right, each chanting spells. Already spurts and scalding fire and cutting wind erupted all around the hunchback. Each one of them, though slightly slower than regular soldiers, sent off waves upon waves of attacks.

Chris herself contributed to the spells, equally furious and wanting nothing but to tear the little monster apart.

The hunchback, with its short legs and gorilla-like arms, was far more agile than he looked. He dodged most of the attack spells, and the ones he could not dodge, he took them like anyone would take a mosquito bite. As for swords and spears, the only person who even caught up with him slightly was the lord Redrum himself. With him, the hunchback only needed to use the girl as a meat shield to deter any outright attacks.

They all chased the dwarf through the manor yards, into town and finally to the deep pool docks. They trampled much of Derek's carefully tended gardens, disrupted innocent bystanders and almost crushed some poor dock rats.

"You're trapped!" Chris said, "Give up the child!"

Instead of trembling in fear, Scytal grinned, a glint of madness in his red eyes. Suddenly, his deformed face shifted and blurred like a accidental liquid drop on watercolor. For a second, he was rather handsome, but for another, he was back to his hideous self. The fluid warping went on as if he wasn't quite sure how he would like to present himself. "This is getting more fun than ever! Ehehh." He laughed hard.

Without warning, cloaked ghouls materialized and surrounded all of them.

A brawl ensued. The ghouls were made of desiccated flesh, neither dead and nor alive.

Percival's eyes widened in horror. Squirming in the clutches of three ghouls was PJ and one of Borus's maids.

One of the Islanders, Kals, barked an order. All of them chanted one phrase quickly before each bellowed one single word. The air instantaneously became heavy and tense with magic, before anyone could do anything, a wall of flames shot out toward the hunchback and the hostages.

"No stop!" Each of them, Borus, Chris, Percival and PJ all shouted at once.

In one last ditched effort to salvage the situation, Chris mentally screamed for her True Rune to do something, anything!

At the bearer's insistence, a hemispherical dome cast downwards from the sky, negating all magic and subsequently banishing the ghouls.

It was too late.

An explosion rocked the docks, flash froze the sea and rattled all structures within the blast radius. The boom knocked everyone off their feet. There were sharp but short wails of pain.

The last thing everyone heard was the monster's ghostly laughter ringing in their ears.

--


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Dawn was creeping on the horizon. The depths of blue that was night gave way to a light gray, as heavy clouds chased away the clear night, promising yet another day of snow.

Dios was not the first to stir. Every single person here had been trained themselves to drift in between consciousness and unconsciousness during missions. No one could predict emergencies that could come in form of a human or feral beast. Furthermore, Harmonian wilderness was frigid, and to truly fall asleep was to invite eternal sleep.

Still, everyone did let down their guard more than usual. They had a powerful magician bishop watching over them. Only Dios and his paranoia kept him fully alert. There were just so many things that could go wrong in Alexey's plan. Not to mention the very obvious flaw that if they failed, they would all be hanged.

So when he became fully conscious, he almost cursed when there was no sight of Alexey.

"He probably wandered away," said Joe Lavins who was one of the few Temple Guardsmen present who was in service during Alexey's tenure, though Joe only remembered the man through a child's eyes then. Still, other than Millie and some of the other older Harmonians, he had an inkling of how Alexey operated. "Look for tracks. If he wants to be found, he'll leave them for us to find."

Sure enough, only a few yards from the central clearing were unmistakable footprints.

After giving the camp a few rough orders, Dios went ahead, following the trail.

Dios came upon natural formation where rocks jutted out like teeth from the earth. The prints ended at the slops where snow could not cling. Surrounding the outcropping were bodies of various emaciated wild beasts. Of particular notice were the rock wolves, the fat in their bodies having been thinned out and consumed by overdue hunger, leaving ripples of lax muscle and skin in death.

"I'm up here," a voice came from the top of the rock outcropping.

Alexey stood cross-armed, looking up toward the lightening sky. He seemed transfixed by the heavens; a look of speculative curiosity sculpted his face. In the distance, he could see the faint but unmistakable sparkle of the Circle Palace's crystalline spires. And to think he spent years in one of those spires doing exactly what he was doing now.

"I see that you kept busy while we rested," commented Dios, still looking at the dead animals.

Alexey shrugged. Instead, he asked offhandedly, "Ever look at the stars, Dios?"

"That is a silly question," said Dios boldly. "You already know the answer, so why ask?"

Alexey chuckled at that. "Do you take the same tone with Sasarai?"

"No," replied Dios solemnly. "He has earned my respect and I live to serve him."

"Will you serve him still if he no longer works for the good of Harmonia?"

"Yes." It was short but convicted answer; an answer that both pleased and troubled the Bearer of the True Rune of Punishment.

"The reason why I ask you about stars is because those who are prescient, even slightly, rely on them." said Alexey, looking down to Dios. His eyes flashed momentarily white before turning back to his favored blue. "The world is speckled with fortunetellers and diviners, each seeing images altered by their own experiences and mind. Their accuracy varies of course. Some can call on their skill at will; others are plagued by spontaneous vision. The stars, however, are unadulterated by human fantasy. All true seers can fortell by them."

"So you can foretell the future by looking at stars." said Dios, slightly irritated. He did not need to be lectured. "All priests were taught how to augury by them. Inaccurate and deplorably general as some of them were."

"Very true. The future is fluid because people can still determine their own destiny. But to some, the future condition will never change."

"So?"

"It's not those held in place by fate that concerns me, it is the ones who are not."

"Meaning?"

Alexey shrugged, seemingly remembering something important. "Nothing that matters to you. Forget whatever I've said. Are we ready to leave?"

They set off toward Harmonia at a ground eating pace just as the snow began to fall.

But Dios could tell Alexey was preoccupied.

Whatever Alexey saw in the heavens that night, it had perturbed the nonchalant priest enough.

--

Morgan's head hurt.

Actually, the sensation was more numb than painful. It felt as if she had been thrown against a wall and flayed alive. There were some serious pains in her lower back and chest. Her head felt light and heavy at the same time, but definitely cold. Perhaps it was for the best. With all the pain combined, she would probably be hurting all over otherwise.

She slowly opened her eyes, somewhat unsurprised by the darkness. She strained her senses, picking up the faint groaning of aged planks, the crash and ebbs of wayward surf and the retching smell of tar. Putting the sounds and the vacillating gravity together, Morgan more or less arrived at the conclusion that she was in some type of wooden vessel on water. The salty smell indicated that she must be near the sea.

Next, she tried to move. Sharp pain shot up her entire body. That much told her that some bones were at least fractured if not broken. At least she could tell she was in a sitting position, arms and legs tied down.

Suddenly, she heard a door opening. In glided several ghouls, similar to the one she saw earlier, except each held a lantern of metal and glass, a pair of red orbs in the sockets of their fleshless faces. Their skeletal hands were still slimy with bits of charred skin resulting from the fire she saw before she passed out earlier.

Morgan swallowed her need to hurl. She was not the squeamish type of girl, but exposed gore was still disturbing.

"Um...hi?" asked Morgan hesitantly.

The ghouls halted, seemingly reacting to her. One tilted its head square to the right and square to the left, trying to look at her from different angles. The back of Morgan's mind only wondered if ghouls got nauseous by that. But when the faintest 'ting' sounded off, more came, dragging something in.

"PJ! Lotty!" Morgan gasped.

Lotty seemed alright, though unconscious. Some of the girl's garments were torn, but there were no bruises or obvious stain of blood.

PJ, however, looked to be hurt badly. There was an open gash on his cheek that looked slightly green and a leg awkwardly bent.

The ghouls glided back out of the room. One of them looked back with a slight spark of awareness in its skull face. Almost out of pity, it left a lamp in the room. Though the light was so poor, Morgan could make out the silhouettes of PJ and Lotty.

Once all of them left, Morgan checked her chair. Seeing that her chair wasn't nailed down to the floor, she shifted her body enough, despite the pain, to squeak over to the two.

"Lotty! PJ! Wake up!"

Morgan tried to shout, to nudge, anything in her ability to wake one of them. The faint breathing told her that they were still alive, but that did not mean they were not dying.

"What am I going to do?" said Morgan to herself after nearly ten minutes of trying to rouse them. Her mind cycled through multiple end scenarios, each worse than before. She would never see her Papa, Ra, Lady Chris, Uncle Percival, Mister Derek or anyone else ever again. She would never become a knight or rescue prince charming. Morgan bit her lips, refusing to cry.

The door clicked. In came the lumbering gorilla-like Scytal.

Morgan felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She blinked away incipient tears. "You!"

Wordlessly, Scytal grabbed the girl's chair and began to drag her out of the cell.

"Hey! Where are you taking me?!" Morgan demanded shrilly as she was taken down a long hall lined with ghouls; their hollow eyes seemed to follow them as they passed. "Where is this place? What have you done to Lotty and PJ?" She shouted at the top of her lungs despite the futile effort.

Scytal never spoke a word. Instead, they went down endless corridors, bypassing hundreds of doors into another dark room similar to the one Morgan woke up in. The only different was a circle of light in middle of the room.

The troll-like man set her in the light. His undulating form stood about five feet away from her, evil red eyes peering at her with the faintest curiosity.

"What? What is this place?"

"This is a confession room," said Scytal, voice clear. "Once used by a Tenkai to obtain secrets."

"By force?"

Scytal chuckled. "No. He needed no force. Everyone told him of their guilt willingly because that was his latent ability; confession. Combined with the proper catalyst, no secret escaped him. His only folly was that he never tortured someone here."

"So you're here to correct his so called folly?"

"Yes. Starting with you!"

Morgan glared at him. "Bite me."

Scytal grinned before his head morphed instantly into a snake with inch long teeth, incisors seemingly sharper than any snake could manage. He came at her with break-neck speed, only to pause within a hair of her.

Morgan was completely unafraid. She glared at him with eerie violet eyes. "Well? That was a bad letdown." she scoffed derisively.

Scytal's features returned to the ugly hunchback. "Heh. He taught you well, I see, but you are actually quite afraid inside, yes?"

"Well, duh! Who wouldn't be afraid of being chained up and tied to a chair in some hellhole somewhere? But that magic thingy of yours held no intent. So I wasn't afraid of that."

Scytal mused at that statement for a bit. For all the women children he had ever encountered, this one seemed genuinely capable of true intuition. "Well..._Rakasvi_, or whatever he calls himself now, would find all this quite funny."

"No. Ra would find it irritating!"

"How do you know? You really don't know who Rakasvi is, do you? What he's done. His history."

At that question, Morgan looked down guiltily and confessed, "No. I never really asked him about his family, where he's been, or where he is going. I know it's wrong to keep him only to myself, but I knew that if he told me everything, he couldn't stay and play with me."

"How do you know? It's not like he is special.."

"Ra **is** special! Maybe not in the way Lady Chris is special to Zexan, but it's obvious to me that there is more than meets the eye with that man. If I want to keep him, I know better than to ask questions."

That confirmed it. She knew how to react subtly to obtain a completely selfish desire. "No wonder he became fond of you."

Morgan's expression was smug. It was bad form but Morgan could care less right now. "Well, everyone is fond of me."

"Of course, but fondness is an anomaly for **him.** He is not fond of anyone. Like me, he feels nothing towards people. He can be kind, he can be gentle. He can guide you most carefully. But if you happened to perish, he cares not. With you...well, he gave you some special treatment."

"Haha... very funny. If he did treat me differently, why then do I still have to do chores and..." a grimace. "study."

Without so much as a warning, Scytal swiped out a pair of twin swords. He came at her suddenly, blades high on a downward path to split her into three.

Reacting, Morgan closed her eyes and immediately prayed to St Loa. But when no pain came, she opened her eyes, only to gaze in wonder at a dark transparent sphere around her.

To prove his point, Scytal struck the sphere a few more times, only to have his sword bounce off the impenetrable runic bastion.

"You think you'll still be breathing now if you were not under his special protection?" said Scytal dryly. Scytal tried to punch the sphere with his gnarled fist, only to have his knuckles burn and sizzle. And at the point of each strike, she saw that strange wirlepool design, the same one on Ra's arm.

"A shield initiated at the moment of fear and bodily damage," spoke Scytal. "This is how I am certain that he is here. You are indeed very special to him. He granted you True protection. Even his Harmonian prodigy doesn't receive the same treatment."

"So what?" Morgan shot back. "I'm still hurting from that fire thingy earlier. And from your shape shifting, you're probably a powerful magician who can dispel this. You're just toying with me!"

Scytal laughed manically at her. "Powerful magician? Is that what you think I am? No! I am much greater than that! I'm..." He suddenly became silent, and paced, looking very concerned, glancing at her with creepy eyes. "I'm just someone like your Rakasvi."

"You're nothing like him! You can't compare to him if you wanted to! You..."

"Ahh...but I stirred your curiosity, haven't I?" asked Scytal. "You are wondering who he is really, aren't you?"

"Knowledge is a triple edged sword," quoted Morgan from an old book of axioms. "as is ignorance."

"Ancient wisdom of Aronia," said Scytal. "The reason why Aronia fell. They knew too little or too much."

"It's a yes," said Morgan impatiently, "to your question."

Scytal drew himself up, smiling all the same. The expression on his deformed face was truly monstrous. "There are only three remaining people who knew of his original naming. Others know him by his recent incarnation, engendered around Solis 285, given the name Lazlo by the hapless woman who bore him. He was a contributor to the establishment of the Island Nations, a one time ruler of Obel, closest companion to the original Flame Champion and so much more. He was a bearer of Hateshigaanai, know to this era as the Rune of Punishment, a Rune rather unlike the Elemental True Runes, but much more alike to the Kienshigaanai, the Hachifusa and Yachifusa."

"You're lying. There's no such a thing as a True Rune of Punishment or that Hate...whatever the fucha things you said! Ra said so himself."

"Only because he holds one himself," Scytal snapped. "Undetermined age. Knew ancient Cynder script, Harmonian, Falenan, adept with nearly all runes, all weapons. Inured against every harshness, can dispatch multiple enemies with practiced ease. Did you not even wonder why he knows so much? Why do you think he covers his left hand?"

"Because his entire left arm and hand is scarred! I've seen it! He had to cover it! It'll be too gross to look at everyday!"

Scytal resisted the urge to rattle the child.

"No! He hides the mark of the True Rune!" Scytal paced. "Do you know how long it took me to track him down? He changes names, his appearance so often to evade Rune Hunters and Blood Hounds that even people who knew him intimately do not recognize him."

"So what? What does that have to do with me?"

Scytal grinned again, giving her a look that would cause any lesser man to cry. "You see, Lazlo, despite his seeming ignorance, is a master of evasion and trickery. The only way to get him, is by superior trickery or a bribe. If he cares about you, then he will come."

"Then what? What do you want with him?"

"That...you'll have to ask him."

Morgan raspberried at him, mocking him in her own childish way. "Make me, you meanie. Plus I don't believe in a thing you said."

"You know I make sense!"

"Of course you make sense. You're Mr. Evil Knievel who's suppose make everyone distrust Ra. Well you know what? Since you have the indecency to blurt his deep dark secret, I trust you even less!"

Agitated, Morgan struggled helplessly against her ropes. Her face was red from frustration. Why do adults all believe that she knew nothing? Well, this time, she was not about to be a good girl who just listens. Papa's good opinion of her was one thing. But this jerk deserved a foot up his butt!

"I bet Scytal isn't your real name either because your real name is so universally ugly that no one likes it. I also bet that, unlike Ra, you're unhappy with yourself, and the only way to make you happy is to make everyone else suffer your misery! You're jealous that he knows what he wants and gets what he wants."

At that, Scytal's grotesque face contorted again. "What? Jealousy?"

"I've seen it in everyone! Those pretty guild ladies..."

"Names? Suffering? Misery? You have no idea how correct you are. Yes. I'm convinced that keeping you will lure him here." He sudden shifted within an inch of her, a finger touching her cheek, still soft with baby fat. "I shall return to continue our banter, even if it's with your corpse."

Morgan did not flinch at touch. "Go to hell!"

"But Lady Morgan," Scytal turned to the door. "This world IS Hell for all of **us**."

With that, Scytal lumbered out, leaving Morgan to brood in the dark.

--


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Nestled in between two mountain ranges with mordacious cold breeze blowing through the majority of the year was the largest metropolis in existence. As the sun rose over Crystal Valley, the city lit up like a searing fire. Quartz spires and glass arches combined with numerous fountains reflected a dance of light like glittering jewels. Even with the promise of snow by the gray clouds to the west, the lights of eternal and severe Crystal Valley defied the will of natural law.

Alexey paused at the main gatehouse and looked up. He muttered the words etched into the keystone.

_"Obey, and you shall be rewarded. Rebel, and you shall be overcome."_

It was an apt saying. When Crystal Valley was first built, Hikusaak needed to ingrain into the population that dissent was not to be tolerated. At the time, Harmonia had just suffered a debilitating civil war from which Kranach Rugner's Scarlet Moon faction held sway in the south, taking over the Harmonian Capital Rupanda and the fertile lands that surrounded it in Solis 230. It was a bloody and costly war, killing far more people than what it took to establish Harmonia in the first place. Hikusaak's only consolation prize was that all the factions that broke away had peasant rebellion because of the successive famine that followed. The fires of war destroyed the farm plots just before the harvest. The few harsh winters afterwards starved close to the amount of people who died during the civil war.

To solve the situation, Harmonia instituted strict rationing that extended to the aristocrats and priesthood had to comply. Those caught indulging unnecessarily were harshly punished. During those times, a man could suffocate from the inhuman discipline that was required of all Harmonians. Nearly all entertainment was banned, and all available material was devoted to simply feeding the population. After all, they were the embodiment of harmony, highly organized for which all were to work together for one organism to thrive.

Scarlet Moon Empire, however, utilized something far more ingenious than iron law to combat the food shortage crisis. They utilized a special Rune and focused on border disputes with their newly acquired neighbor Kulook to split the attention from the pressing famine. By wearing Kooluk uniform the nobility of Scarlet Moon began the infamous man hunt that lasted for years. Kooluk, whose leaders cared not for the masses, allowed the atrocity to continue.

Unsurprising, to least to him, the resulting internal stability was the same for both Harmonia and Scarlet Moon.

Alexey mused silently as he cycled through the memories of that time. His Rune was busy, always looking for self-righteous hosts, wooing their darker sides, showing them the unlimited power that it could provide and always consuming their souls. Doom from the first touch, even those who figured how to detangle themselves from the Rune ultimately became mad with greed for power again. The most cursed of all Runes, it devoured uncountable hosts, unselective of whom it took. To a relic that dated back to the beginning of time, man must be constantly reminded of their insignificance. **It** tolerated none, except for one.

Lazlo, as he was called back then, was normal as anyone could discern. A child orphaned at sea, he had the usual two legs, two arms, a pair of eyes, unremarkable feature. He was much more a follower more than a leader. He ran around with Snowe to play, shirking duties as a child. Later, their friends Jewel, Paula, Tal and Kenneth all joined in their subconscious quest to make a name for themselves. They were to become knights of Geien, work for a few years, get married, have a few children and die in relative comfort. It was suppose to be the simple life that everyone wanted.

But Lazlo knew deep down that he was different from many long before he took on a True Rune. As an observant child, he noticed how that strange goat creature, Yohn, shrank away from him when he spoke. He also noticed that he was far more natural using twin sword than the single hand taught at the Razril Military Academy. Someone else must had figured something out of place about him because why was he given a room away from the dormitories at the Academy?

Many years later, after the Island Liberation war, when he finally figured out just how different he really was.

He figured out why Leknaat could not place him when he wished to hide from her visions.

He figured out why he could so miraculously survive the exile from Razril with only a cat kablod and two other friends.

He figured out why the Rune of Punishment could not truly consume him even if he tested it.

He never figured out why his Rune could not cured the common cold though, nor why the blasted thing could never keep his hands and feet warm. One of the most powerful items in the world and it was down right useless in practical matters.

"Keep your face hidden," barked Dios, withdrawing the man out of memory. "Some already noticed you!"

Both were riding along the main boulevard, their tired horses slowed down to a ground grating cantor. As it was still early morning on a blustery cold day, few were out and about.

After seeing Alexey pull down his hood a little further, Dios continued just loud enough for him to hear. "I've spoken with the guards as to the events of the Valley. So far, Sasarai is holding his own. Gabriel will be in the main square as a member of the military tribunal. As you predicted, Millie is approximately six hours behind. Once you enter the Forbidden Chambers, you must leave in time you will miss the your chance at the central square."

Dios kept on speaking of what he knew.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of debriefing, they were in front of the foreboding outer gates into successive terraces that protects the massive complex called Circle Palace. The leaders of Harmonia had learned their lesson from the loss of Rupanda; they designed the Circle Palace more as fortress, delicately deceiving where they could guard the center of government and maintain vigilance over the vast expanse of knowledge inside the One Temple.

Alexey sighed. "We're here."

----------------------------------

The Inner Palace was an eerie and ghostly tomb. Sounds of footsteps and whisper of cloaks weaved and echoed through out the endless halls. Each person, even in the One Temple where discussion was encouraged, spoke in soft whispers and some used hand signs instead of speech. No one wanted to disturb the phantoms that haunts the corridors with their own bloodied past and clandestine affairs. There were those, however, who rightfully believed in their position and also rightfully declared their presence to all.

Gabriel took an entourage of servants, sycophants, bodyguards, Temple Guards, and official aids along with him. They crowded about him, some of them chatter incessantly, some of them fawned empty praises into his ears, all of them served as sacrificial bodies. Gabriel was not a paranoid person, but his official aids were. With the return of Alexander, there were bound to be murders and assassinations. That was truly why so many frontier stationed Magicians and Temple Guards were called home.

"You know Gabriel, this situation could work for us," said Drall, walking next to Gabriel.

Drall was a blind man, his milky eyes filmed over with cataracts for years. He was old, with white hair and beard and face as wrinkled as a piece of unfolded crumpled paper. He was also the current head of the Ninth Tier, a highly ranked Archbishop, the official interpreter and speaker for Hikusaak.

Gabriel never understood why Drall wanted to look and be old. With all the knowledge and magicians available to them, extended youth could be obtained with a snap of a finger. Still, Drall held great power because all law were passed down from Hikusaak through Drall's lips.

It was all for the best. Even though Drall had ambitions for himself, he was never clever enough to really realize them.

"The execution of that _animal_ can become a demonstration of our power."

"Or martyr him," Gabriel reminded, always mindful of how the situation could turn on him. "Someone could come after him and use his name to claim power."

"We have the Absolute One's support and power!" said Drall, assured of his position.

"We hold his power as a trust," said Gabriel. Hikusaak was called the Absolute One for a reason and his punishments were just as unquestionable as his name. Besides, Gabriel had survived so long because he knew whom to fear. "We'll just need to make sure that...." Gabriel stopped, eyes narrowing seeing a familiar face.

"Dios," acknowledge Gabriel with a slight nod. Nearly all of the upper tier priests had their own aids; some aids held nearly as much power as the priests themselves. Dios was such an aid.

Dios stopped in his tracks, turning just slightly. The clumsy acolyte next to him, bogged down with the ridiculously heavy ceremonial garb, did not halt in time and almost tripped.

Gabriel resisted the urge to chuckle. There were rumors that Dios had been secretly training a successor for the past months. If this acolyte was the replacement, things would become easier for him.

Dios growled at the acolyte and bite out a few curses for which the acolyte responded with an hackling laugh like a hyena. Gabriel felt bad for whom ever had to deal with the novice.

"How is his holiness Sasarai," asked Drall with a knowing smile, interrupting the acolyte.

"He is well," said Dios tersely. "And he will recover."

"Ah." The answer seemed to have satisfied Drall more than anything for his smile widened.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Greatness?" offered Dios with a slight irritation. Men who considered themselves clever but were not actually clever would set anyone on the edge.

"I believe there is. Come, I shall grant you a private audience," said Drall.

The aid's glance was suspicious though his response was polite. "I am honored."

The acolyte followed them but gave backward glances at Gabriel. The acolyte's shoulder shifted as if laughing at the holy man. Gabriel made a mental note to remove the irritating flea before it could bite him. For now, Gabriel had an execution to attend.

"I find it curious that you're training another personal aid," said Drall while searching for an unoccupied room.

Dios shrugged. "I cannot live forever. Sasarai however, is another matter."

Drall gave an understanding look. "Yes. That is true. Sasarai holds the True Earth in his heart and we benefit by the fact that he knows the location of the other True Elemental Runes, though he refuse to send the Hounds for them. But that is the past. I doubt he will live for another month."

"How is that?" asked the acolyte next to Dios.

Dios frowned, confused. He glanced at the acolyte furtively, questioning. He seemed to have missed something.

"It's alright Dios," interrupted Drall. It greatly amused him when he surprised others with his knowledge and power. "It's our duty to educate children. Let me tell you that the Absolute One ordered Sasarai to be cursed. Sasarai is no longer a desired vessel for he has became rebellious and therefore, outgrew his usefulness. However, we could not have him escaping, could we? So we wear his body down, keep him comatose and harmless until a new vessel is available. It's as simple as that."

"So why are you speaking to me now?" asked Dios, his fist clenched. He had suspected that was the case, but never knew that anyone had the audacity to speak so. Sasarai still wielded much influence in all aspects of Harmonia; he only never gave the order to openly assault his enemies.

Drall would had been very dead if he had found himself in disfavor.

The wrinkled, aged priest gave a wan smile. "Because you are, nonetheless, a talented aid and you knew personally know many of Sasarai's secrets. And like my predecessor had said, talent must never be wasted. Think about it."

The acolyte laughed out this time, far too amused. "Drall, you sure are certainly entertaining. Tell me, does Hikusaak find you just as funny as I do?"

Drall's saintly composure immediately melted. "How dare you show such disrespect!"

"I've NEVER showed you respect in the first place." The acolyte removed his heavy cloak, revealing an old style Harmonian general's uniform. However, unlike many priest generals, this one had was armed with twin swords, and he moved quickly like a seasoned Guildsmen.

Before Drall knew what had happened, he faltered backwards against a wall as he felt the man approach. From his years in the Temple, Drall knew exactly who carried that half-mocking and half-threatening presence like a giant among ants.

"ALEX!" Drall gasped. His old heart beating harder than ever, filmy eyes wide as if attempting to see. "You're suppose to be DEAD!" he managed to rasp out.

"You know, everyone tells me that," came the amused tone. Alex always had a sense of grating sardonic humor; one could never know if he was serious or not. "But I don't feel dead."

"But...if you're...here!...Then!" Drall thought back of the report that Harmonia had captured the dissenter posing as Alex.

"...Then who is out there awaiting trial?" Alex smiled. "Well, I wasn't blessed with an ordinary face for nothing."

"Dios! Sound the alarm!" Drall cried.

However, Dios only paced away from the two calmly. "I'll be preparing," said Dios to Alex, completely ignoring Drall, before leaving the room. "And please keep the blood splatter to a minimum."

"Dios! I command you to sound the alarm!" shouted Drall, much to his own dismay. He looked at Alex with mad cataract eyes. The air of imperturbable calm and constant amusement were signature composure of the much hated Healer who was known to his enemies as the Confessor. "You're going to kill me? The great peacemaker? The merciful Healer? You don't have the stomach for blood!"

"That is where you are wrong Drall. I can stand blood just as well, if not better than ex Archbishop Lisk."

"Lisk? The first Archbishop? He killed hundred of thousands of Aronians! Charismatic, yes. But he was so blood thirsty that Hikusaak had to put him down like a mad dog!"

Alex gave the sword a well practiced push. The blade pierced through Drall's sternum and into the old man's body, through his heart. The old man never made a sound.

"Thank you for staying quiet," Alex said expressionlessly to Drall's sagging body. "And there are many more parasites like you I must eliminate for the sake of Humanity."

-------------------------------------

What a disaster.

Newest alliance with a powerful conglomeration of merchant princes had turned sour faster than fresh milk left out in the open. The said queen of the merchant princes unexpectedly demonstrated the military prowess that kept the Islands strong through the last two centuries.

What was worse, Marcus never expected that the kidnapping of a single child could set off such a string of events that would incapacitate the higher echelons of Zexen military. At least there were enough second-in-commands and lieutenants that somewhat salvaged the situation.

Marcus wanted some type of scapegoat to blame all this on. He really did not care who would suffer, may it be some homeless bum, the offending tree, or even one of the mighty six.

But first, Marcus would have to sit with the council of thirteen plus their sullen Lady Chris who all demanded a audience Nina.

"I'm looking for criminal with a True Rune," Nina explained calmly. Contrary to her prior meekness, she now exuded an aura of confidence and arrogance. She even forgo a translator and spoke the universal tongue with a guttural accent to the council.

"The bearer is wanted by several southern nations for espionage and assassinations. If found, we are to arrest or kill him."

Marcus and the councilmen looked at each other. There were people who lusted after the True Runes.

Some, however, were already appreciative of this mere woman's audacity. To some council members who knew of the True Rune in their midst, were wary of their lack of control over that mere woman. Lady Chris could be trusted to do the right thing, though her idea of the 'right thing' rarely coincided with the goal of the council.

"Are you here to gather the True Runes?"

Nina shook her head. "Every True Rune Bearer is cursed, some less and some more. I wish none of that for me nor my countrymen."

"Truly? Not even for the power that it grants?" the councilman prodded. It was the simplest question to ask. Power at a whim and here was someone who desire it not?

Nina pursed her lips. How foolish were these northerners? "Power, yes. The insanity, no."

"Insanity?" laughed Marcus as he gave a furtive glance at their Lady Chris. "You have to be joking."

Nina kept her express as neutral. "Then you have never witnessed True destruction, or you would not make light of the divine."

That brought Marcus short.

"But that does not explain why you're after your so called criminal," said another councilmen.

"It's a policy, set during in the beginnings of our Federation. One of our greatest leaders, Prince Lazlo, had set laws to forbid the gathering of True Runes and any hints of summoning permanent creatures from the World of Emptiness."

"World of Emptiness?" a councilman said in disbelief. "Why, that is a myth!"

"Yes! That is why it's called the World of Emptiness," followed another.

Nina's expression was one of amusement as the dozen plus men bantered and guffawed about the absurdity of her conviction. These men had never seen the battlefield, nor seen the nonchalance of a God at death of millions. They knew not the fear and obedience a True Rune could inspire.

Lady Chris's look, however, was solemn. She knew what Nina spoke of, and that doubled that gnawing suspicion about Nina's true purpose here.

"Believe as you wish," said Nina. "But our maritime law will prohibit you from interfering with our mission."

"Which is?"

"We must destroy all that are infected by that troll, including the child, Morgan."

"You cannot," Lady Chris spoke quite firmly. "You must save Morgan and the others who were kidnapped."

"There is no saving the infected," said Nina. "If you need convincing, you may come along, and see for yourself."

--------------------------------------


End file.
